Guns and Hoses
by Robert Modean
Summary: The tenth annual 'Guns and Hoses' boxing event between DC's elite in law enforcement and fire fighters brings our favorite duo together as Brennan helps Booth get ready for the fight of his life. This is an AU fic set in S5. Chapter 3 is up, M-RATED!
1. Training Day

Guns and Hoses

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately I neither own, nor am involved with, the production of _Bones_. On the plus side I work _really_ cheap, so if Hart Hanson or Stephen Nathan is reading this? Call me.

**Synopsis**: The tenth annual 'Guns and Hoses' boxing event between DC's elite law enforcement officers and the district's fire fighters is coming up, and you know who will be representing the FBI. Of course, wherever Booth is, Brennan won't be far behind, and when Angela discovers the world's foremost forensic anthropologist has been moonlighting as Booth's trainer and physical therapist, well, let's just say Angela's sex deprived brain has all the motivation she needs to see someone's unresolved sexual tension get resolved, and soon!

_A/N: This story takes place during the 5th season in an AU where the 100th episode didn't take place and Angela never slept with Wendell. The first is because, well, basically I think the 100th episode was crap. The second is because I never really bought the whole Angela-Wendell relationship – she's Hodgins' girl, all the way. Not that her getting together with Hodgins will be exactly easy, but it will happen. I mean, everything happens eventually, right? Oh, and this one is starting out rated T, it'll turn M later I'm sure, everything I do seems to end up an M eventually. Heh, there's that word again..._

**Guns and Hoses – Training Day**

* * *

><p>A small droplet of sweat formed on his forehead, hesitated, and then answering gravity's siren call began to roll slowly down the bridge of his nose, clinging momentarily to its tip before falling onto a well formed pectoral muscle. Said pectoral muscle coiled and flexed rhythmically in tune with the deltoids, biceps, triceps and a host of others as he repeatedly propelled his body upward, lifting his chin atop the steel bar before lowering himself to do it again and again. Up and down, chin to steel, muscles flexing, sweat beading, rolling, dripping with every motion, and all the while he kept count in his head, oblivious to the small crowd that had gathered to watch his routine.<p>

'…_forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty._' Booth released his grip and landed on the mat with a soft thud. '_another set of crunches and then I'll go back to working the bag for ten more minutes and…ah fuck. The pack is back and Angela's with them._'

Booth snatched up his towel and mopped the sweat from his face, before tossing it over his shoulder. He shot Angela a friendly look, nodded at her and grunted in acknowledgement as she called out to him, waving all the while like a possessed fan girl. A wry smile forced its way onto Booth's lips as he shook his head at her and studiously ignored the rest of the pack. Turning back to the task at hand, Booth adjusted the incline on the sit-up bench to increase the angle, and subsequently the difficulty, for his workout. Laying down he began ripping out his next set of fifty sit-ups, focusing on the burn that set in along his abdominals to block out the sound of his gossiping admirers who weren't half as quiet as they thought they were.

"Mmm-mmm. I'm telling you I could just sink my teeth into that stomach…or any part of him for that matter."

Angela snapped off a carrot stick to emphasize her point and was met with a chorus of 'yesses' and 'oh yeahs'.

"He smiled at you, a real smile. He never smiles, not at anyone. _Ever_!"

Angela turned to see a fresh faced young woman staring at her with surprisingly green eyes. Next to her a thin lipped, bleach bottle blond with very large breasts stuffed into a very tight blouse had fixed a pair of cold green eyes on her. The fresh faced young woman was definitely a rookie agent, that much was obvious, as was the serious case of hero worship she was carrying for Special Agent Studly. She was fairly harmless, Angela knew that, but the other one, the one she'd already nicknamed '_Big Tits_' in her head? She was another story all together. When she spoke Angela's hackles rose instantly.

"How do you know Seeley?"

"How do I know him or _how well_ do I know him?"

Angela rolled her eyes at the woman.

"The answers to those questions, in no particular order, are intimately and well enough to know he doesn't like to be called Seeley."

The acidic remark stung enough that the blond sat back without pressing the issue, but as soon as she did another member of the pack readily filled the void, the younger one from before.

"I think what Marnie was really asking was if you're dating Seel-, um, I mean Agent Booth. No disrespect if you are it's just that he's, well he's a very handsome man and he's single, and as far as anyone here knows…"

"He's the most eligible bachelor at the Hoover?" Angela finished for her.

The woman nodded shyly. Giving her the once over, Angela smiled back. Sure, the young woman was quite pretty in her own way but she was probably fresh out of the Academy. And while her pretty face, framed as it was by shoulder length sandy blonde hair and adorned with a sprinkling of freckles across the nose and cheeks, probably had men tripping over themselves most of the time, Angela knew Booth wouldn't give her a second look. Besides, she was definitely a junior member of the pack, a beta female at most, and Booth only went for alphas. '_Still_', Angela thought, '_best to make sure she and the rest of the pack know he's off limits._'

"I've known Booth for years, and your right sweetie. He's a hunk of man candy if ever there was one."

Angela's smile widened, and noticing the attention she'd garnered, the artist decided to push the point home.

"Not just that but he's a total sweetheart. He's kind, attentive, caring, romantic, built like a brick shithouse and chivalrous to a fault. Don't even think about opening your own door or paying for a meal with him around, and girl that man can kiss!"

Angela watched as several faces fell at once, but noted the few that didn't fall at all and instead became more focused. '_What bitches. Thinking they can make a move on Booth when I'm talking about him like we're dating. From the looks of things that Marnie bitch is probably planning on throwing her boney ass at him first chance she gets. Well it's time to nip that in the bud._'

"Oh, so how long have you and Agent Booth been going out?"

Thin lipped, big titted Marnie was speaking again.

"Oh we aren't going out honey, but he is sort of seeing a friend of mine."

Her offhand remark sparked looks and a few not so hidden smiles.

"Sort of seeing? So they're not really dating or anything?" Marnie pressed home her question. "I mean, how do you '_sort of_' see someone?"

"Well they've been together five years off and on, the last year or so pretty exclusively. They go out all the time, take trips together, have their little sleepovers, and she's practically a surrogate mom to his boy, Parker."

Angela smiled as it all sank in and every face fell then, even the steely ones from before.

"They just don't want to put a name on what they have because they've both been burned. It's sort of sad, but in a really sweet way."

That should have been enough to finish them off, but Angela was surprised that even though many of the pack wavered none had actually left. She turned back to watch Booth as he continued his workout. He'd finished his sit-ups and moved on to the heavy bag which was being held for him by an Agent she didn't recognize. Angela couldn't help but smile appreciatively as Booth worked the bag landing solid blow after solid blow and making the man holding it flinch in anticipation. Her open admiration for him was brought to question by the pack's unofficial leader then.

"So you're friend doesn't mind you ogling her man while she's not around?"

Marnie's comment elicited a few knowing sniggers.

"Nah, we're cool like that, and anyway she knows she can trust me. I mean if they weren't together I'd be rocking that body like a wooden hobby horse honey, but they are so it's no big. Anyway I've taken a vow of celibacy, so all I _can_ do is look."

"Right, and there's no harm in looking."

It was the young blond who spoke this time, casting a sympathetic eye toward Angela.

"Not for me anyway, but you might want to ask her yourself."

Angela nodded toward the far side of the gym where Brennan had entered. She wore a midnight blue suit that was perfectly tailored to accentuate her figure and compliment her skin tone. The warmth of the day had given her reason to remove the jacket which she carried over her shoulder revealing a sleeveless coral silk blouse with a scoop neck that emphasized her breasts and showed an impressive expanse of creamy bare skin around her shoulders and upper chest.

Brennan waved at Angela, completely oblivious to the stares of every man in the gym or the fact that Booth had locked onto her presence before anyone else, even Angela.

"Huh, she's pretty enough." Marnie added dryly. "Not exactly what I expected though."

Angela struggled to keep from laughing out loud. Pretty enough? Brennan wasn't just dressed to kill, she was sporting a fresh, wind-blown look that made the naturally attractive brunette appear positively stunning.

"Yeah, Well Bren's pretty unique. I mean what else would you call a woman with three doctorates who's also a certified NRA marksman, has hunting licenses in four states and is an expert in three different types of martial arts?" Angela smiled knowingly at the wavering pack. "I think that's what Booth found attractive about her in the first place. She's not just drop dead gorgeous, but brilliant and tough and that's important to him. Booth has a dangerous job but he knows she can handle herself, and he trusts her to have his back. Like when she shot that stalker of his a couple of years ago…"

Angela spun a yarn that left no doubt as to the partners' devotion to one another. She took great pains in describing how Booth jumped in front of the bullet meant for Brennan, how he gladly risked his life for the woman he loved. The wavering members of the pack bolted first, the others left in ones and twos as she went on to narrate the scene of Brennan calmly and effortlessly picking up Booth's gun and dispatching the psychotic woman. By the time she was done only thin lipped Marnie and the young fresh faced blond remained.

Angela gave the younger woman an appraising look. The younger woman might be more of a challenge than she'd originally thought, but in the end she dismissed her concerns. After all, no woman stood a chance once Temperance Brennan made her presence known. As if on queue Booth's voice boomed out across the gym.

"Bones!"

Booth had stopped working the heavy bag and was waving enthusiastically at Brennan. His booming voice brought Brennan to a stop mid-stride, and she turned toward him instinctively, beaming a smile back at him and giving him a small, timid wave. Booth motioned for her to have a seat with Angela, while he returned to the heavy bag and the agent holding it for him. Brennan approached Angela and sat down in the vacant space next to her on the portable bleachers.

"Hey Ange."

"Hey Sweetie, so what brings you out today? Come to watch the FBI's hottest hunk work out?"

Brennan's cheeks flushed suddenly as she turned back from the sight of her partner pounding the heavy bag into submission.

"No, I had to pick up Parker. His school called and he wasn't feeling well." Reaching over she snagged one of Angela's carrot sticks. "I brought him by Booth's office but Charlie said he was down here. Poor Parks was so tired that I put him to sleep on the couch and left Charlie to watch him, I thought I'd come down here to get Booth."

Somewhere in the middle of that conversation, between picking up Parker and coming to get Booth, both thin lipped Marnie and the fresh faced blond finally gave up and followed the other members of the pack out of the gym, leaving only Brennan and Angela on the bleachers to watch Booth finish up his workout.

Angela looked over her shoulder, watching the last two members of the pack as the lingered at the doors leaving the gym. Even at a distance she could see them looking at Booth and Brennan, watching as he looked in her direction between punches while he worked the bag, watching as she smiled and waved at him or laughed at the faces he made. It was with a sense of deep satisfaction that Angela saw the two women turn, and with shoulders slumped and heads hung low, leave the gym.

The pack was gone, only the alpha female remained.

* * *

><p>It'd been twenty minutes since Brennan joined her for lunch, fifteen since she's watched her best friend finish off her carrot and celery sticks. With only the apple slices left she was thankful that she'd chosen to eat her yogurt cup first or Brennan would have taken that too. Angela chuckled quietly to herself. This was the same woman who, five years ago, could go an entire day without remembering to eat a single meal was now so conditioned to eating regularly she'd practically eaten Angela's entire lunch. That was Booth's doing, and Angela told her so. She'd expected some sort of argument but instead got a silent smile.<p>

The artist stared at her best friend and broke out into a mischievous smile as she realized what had so distracted her; Brennan was watching Booth with an intensity normally reserved for a set of Bronze Age remains. Her smirk grew as she watched the forensic anthropologist ogle the man she claimed was nothing more than her partner like he was a Chippendale's dancer. There were a dozen other agents working out, a few as well defined as Booth and as attractive in their own way, but Brennan was so enthralled watching Booth's body as he landed blow after thunderous blow on the heavy bag that Angela eventually had to pinch her to draw her out of her reverie.

"Ow! Angela! What was that for?"

Brennan rubbed her forearm vigorously at the site of injury.

"I asked you a question but you were so busy ogling the goods over there that you didn't hear me." Angela smirked.

"I. Was. Not. Ogling." Brennan fumed. "I was observing Booth's form and looking for signs of workout related stress in his lower lumbar region."

"Uh-huh. You were staring at his ass sweetie, admit it."

"I'll admit to no such thing. Honestly Angela, you know that Booth's back has been bothering him with this increased workout schedule. I've tried to convince him to take yoga with me but he insists that the deep tissue massages are enough." Brennan stole an apple slice. "I'm just watching him to make sure he doesn't cause any permanent damage."

"Well if he's got a good masseuse he could be right."

Seeing the eyes-wide stare she was getting from her friend Angela quickly amended her comment.

"I mean it's not like he's going to keep working out at this level forever, this is just for the fight. Right?"

"Yes, but his back will always give him trouble and yoga is a better long term solution. Deep tissue massage only lasts so long and he can't do it on himself, so what's he going to do when I can't drop everything to give him a massage?"

Brennan was utterly serious, betraying no hint of sarcasm nor giving any indication that she was putting Angela on, and yet the artist couldn't believe what she'd heard.

"Excuse me, sweetie, but you've been giving studly massages? On a regular basis? Him all naked, you straddling him, with hot oil and…everything?"

Brennan nodded in response and Angela was unable to keep the shock from registering in her voice.

"Anything else you've forgotten to share with your celibate and sex-starved best friend Brennan?"

"For the most part, yes." Brennan saw the smile erupt on her friend's face and groaned. "I mean no! No, I haven't forgotten to share anything else and yes I am giving him deep tissue massages to help manage the pain from his increased workout schedule, but it's not what you think. He's not completely naked Angela, he wears shorts and the warm oil simply helps the surface muscle relax thereby increasing the efficacy of the massage."

"Right. And the part where you're straddling his hot, oily, mostly naked body, what does that increase the efficacy of? Because honey I have some suggestions for you if you need them."

Rolling her eyes Brennan couldn't help but return her friend's amused smile.

"I have to straddle his thighs Angela. I am much smaller than Booth, physically, and I need the extra leverage to effectively reach the deeper muscles of his back and shoulders, and his back."

"You said back twice sweetie. Or were you talking about his backside?"

"He does occasionally complain about cramping in the gluteus maximus and medius. So yes, I do find myself forced to massage those areas as well." Brennan offered, without missing a beat.

"Uh-huh. And by 'occasionally complain' you mean he mentioned it once, and by 'forced' you mean you'll use that as an excuse to cop a feel of his luscious tushy every time you give him a massage."

Angela watched Brennan's cheeks pink in acknowledgement and the smile on the artist's face threatened to reach her ears.

"Temperance Brennan you shameless hussy!"

"I have found that when it comes to dealing with issues of physical health one can never be too cautious. So when he mentioned the pain I may have taken it upon myself to make sure that it wouldn't aggravate his pre-existing back problems."

Brennan could tell that her well reasoned explanation was having no effect on her friend whose grin had grown even wider, if possible.

"It's true Ange! Left unchecked muscle strain in the gluteus cluster can adversely effect posture and carriage putting additional strain on the muscles of the lower lumbar region."

"Bren sweetie, it's okay. _Really, _I totally believe you."

Stroking Brennan's forearm reassuringly, Angela smiled.

"I totally believe you are shoveling a big ol' steaming pile of well reasoned logic just so you have an excuse to grab that man's ass."

"Angela!"

Brennan's scandalized look only made Angela smile more.

"Seriously Brennan, between you and me, how good is it? I mean is it as good as I've always imagined?"

Angela couldn't miss the very pointed, and possessive, look her best friend was giving her.

"Angela I am not going to indulge you or your sexual theorizing about Booth."

Brennan locked eyes with her friend who'd adopted a more aggressive, even somewhat intimidating, stance as the two engaged in a stare down. Brennan lasted almost ten seconds before caving in.

"Fine. Without admitting to anything, and speaking from a purely anthropologically standpoint about my observations as a scientist, I would have to confirm your previously stated hypothesis…Booth has the firmest, most well proportioned butt I've ever seen."

"Seen? You've seen that butt naked? What about his thighs? Thighs too?"

Angela's animated questioning shocked Brennan back into a defensive posture, and holding up her hands in surrender she shied away from even making eye contact with the artists.

"Ugh, Sweetie! C'mon, you have to dish. You're holding out on me!"

She studied her friend for a few moments with open curiosity. The normally unflappable anthropologist who's ability to discuss almost any sexual act in the frankest of terms, and who had been known on occasion to even embarrass her, was suddenly acting like a virginal school girl. Angela grinned and decided to bait her friend, seeing how far she could push things.

"I'm betting those thighs are as muscular and yummy as that tushy of his. Can't you just imagine being between them, having him squeeze you until you pop like a bottle of warm champagne?"

Brennan blushed furiously and fidgeted incessantly in her seat, but never took her eyes off Booth's backside.

"Oh jeez Brennan, give it up. You've obviously got the hots for our FBI honey."

"I do not Angela, that's ridiculous." She protested weakly.

"Really? Well it's a little late to play the reluctant virgin now sweetie, and you're already as red as a lobster so you might as well save that act for studly and dish already."

"Fine." Brennan let out an exasperated sigh. "I have, on occasion, found myself fantasizing about Booth in a more than platonic manner, but we are friends and work partners who spend an inordinate amount of time together and it is only natural that our bodies respond to certain stimuli. Any fantasies that do occur are entirely unbidden and uncontrollable on my part and are, in any case, the result of a totally normal and purely biological reaction my healthy libido has to the proximity of his well structured and very, very symmetrical form."

Brennan's mouth had gone dry and Angela watched in fascination as her tongue snaked out to gently trace a path of moisture on her parched lips.

"Uh-huh. And his thighs sweetie?"

"Like sculpted marble…" Brennan managed a whisper, eyes never leaving Booth's body. "Butt too."

Angela finally relented, knowing that if she continued pushing Brennan their was a good chance the somewhat volatile woman would end up taking it out on Booth, or more likely not take it out on the poor man and leaving him wondering what he'd done to make her withdraw. Instead she tried to lightened the mood by telling Brennan about the rabid pack of fan girls from the Hoover who'd come to watch Booth workout. The artists noted the jealous look in her friend's eyes and how it gave way to laughter when she was provided a somewhat edited account of how they'd been run off. The women's conversation was suddenly interrupted by the overwhelming presence of their topic of conversation.

"Hey Bones! Hi Angela."

Booth smiled at them both, but his smile positively glowed when he looked at Brennan, Angela rolled her eyes at them both.

"What brings two of the District's most beautiful women to the bowels of the Hoover building?"

"Oh please studly, as if you didn't know."

Angela slapped playfully at Booth's arm only to pull her hand back in disgust.

"Ugh, sweaty."

"What did you expect? I just finished working out."

Booth grabbed his towel then, self consciously wiping down his chest and arms.

"Yes, we noticed Booth, and it was a workout that went far beyond what we had agreed upon as reasonable."

Brennan locked eyes with her partner, all traces of her earlier reticence instantly gone.

"If you keep setting this pace you'll end up injuring yourself or, at the very least, be too tired and muscle sore to face Bishop effectively in the ring."

"I know my body Bones, and I know how hard I can push it. Besides the fight is a week from this coming Saturday, that's only 10 days away, so even if I do overdo it a little, well, I've still got you, right?"

Booth saw her brows furrowed in consternation and quickly tried to sooth her.

"I mean, I know I can count on you to be there for me, okay?. Even when I'm an idiot and I push myself a little harder than normal, like today, I know you can give me one of those fantastic massages to help me work the kinks out. That, some Ranger candy and a hot bath are all I need to be as right as rain."

"Um, Ranger candy?"

The partners turned as one to see a confused Angela staring at them.

"That's what we call…" "That's what Booth calls…"

Angela smiled and shook her head at the two as they began talking over one another. Her smile broadened as she watched Brennan give Booth a no-nonsense look that cowed the otherwise indomitable agent.

"Ranger candy is what Booth and his army buddy's call ibuprofen. It's a sobriquet demonstrative of the frequency with which they use it for relieving the pain associated with strenuous activity." Brennan finished.

"Okay, good to know."

Angela stood then and gathered up the remains of her lunch, listening to Brennan and Booth talk as she did. Booth put a leg up on the lower riser and leaned in grinning.

"So you never said what brought you here. Did ya' miss me? Is that it Bones?"

"No, I had to pick Parker up at school."

Brennan instinctively put her hand on Booth's chest and leaned toward him with a reassuring look on her face.

"Relax, Booth, Parker's fine. Poor boy's just a bit tired. He wasn't feeling well and since Rebecca and Brent won't be back in town until tomorrow, and you weren't answering your phone, they called me to come get him."

"He isn't feeling well? What's wrong? Did he get sick? I mean at school?"

Booth had relaxed somewhat but still seemed anxious.

"Nothing's wrong, the school nurse said there was a gastro-intestinal illness going around, and yes, he did vomit while he was in the cafeteria but he's alright now."

Brennan saw the look of concern on Booth's face and hastily added, "It's not as traumatizing as you might think Booth, actually he seemed rather proud of the fact that right after he threw up several other children did as well."

Booth's face relaxed as she'd hoped, but Brennan was surprised when he actually started to chuckle. He saw the look of confusion in her face and shook his head benignly.

"It's a little boy thing Bones, gross things fascinate them. When Parks goes back to school tomorrow he'll probably be the most popular boy in class. I'll explain it later." Booth smiled at the bemused look on Brennan's face. "Hey, instead of going out how 'bout we have dinner in tonight?"

"I was thinking that myself, I told Parker if he was feeling up to it I'd make him Mac 'n' Cheese."

"Bones! You're making us Mac 'n' Cheese for dinner? You're the best!"

"Slow down Booth, I said I'd make Parker Mac 'n' Cheese for dinner, I never promised you anything."

The pitiful groan he'd emitted nearly caused her to relent right then, but Brennan held fast, unable to pass up any chance to tease her partner.

"If you're good, and you promise to tone back your workout until the fight I'll think about making enough for you too."

"It's tone down Bones, but hey, you're the boss."

Booth flashed his patented charm smile.

"So am I getting Mac 'n' Cheese, right?"

Brennan sighed and rolled her eyes at Booth.

"Don't try to charm smile it out of me Booth."

She sighed again when he added the puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. But we _are_ discussing your workout schedule when we get home."

"Absolutely Bones, whatever you say. Hey, we can talk about it while you're giving me my massage, okay?"

"Okay, but will you please take your shower now? You're starting to get a little malodorous."

Brennan gently placed her hand on his chest and gave him a shove to emphasize the need for distance. Booth rocked backwards, slightly unbalanced and with a practiced expression of shock and horror as he lifted one arm and gave it a hesitant sniff. The face he made was mirrored by Angela.

"A little, Bren? Sorry G-man, but you reek."

Angela held her nose and swatted Booth firmly on the butt eliciting a small, sharp, yelp. Both Brennan and Angela laughed at Booth's reaction, though Brennan stopped when Angela turned toward her with a smirk.

"You were right Bren, Booth's ass really is firm and yummy."

The shocked look on her face was accompanied by furious blushing which rapidly gave way to anger directed at a startled Booth who'd turned back to her with a wide eyed grin that was anything but partnerly. Angela stifled a giggle when the baffled and blushing Special Agent attempted to extricate himself from the sudden appearance of Brennan's wrath and ended up hotfooting it to the showers. Once he'd left, however, it was Angela's turn to feel the anthropologist's spleen. Ignoring all the warning signs, the artist gamely turned to Brennan and smiled.

"Hey Bren? I'm heading back to the lab. You coming with, or are you staying here with the Booth boys?"

"While I should probably head back to the Jeffersonian I have no desire to accompany you right now Angela. In any case I drove and I imagine you'll be taking your own car back as well."

Brennan picked at some invisible lint on her blouse, her eyes never making contact with Angela's.

"Um, actually it was a nice day and I walked. It's only about fifteen minutes and the flowers on the Mall are in full bloom." Cocking an eyebrow at Brennan, Angela voiced her concern. "You're really mad at me aren't you? Not just peeved or irritated, you're really, really upset this time."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about Angela, but I do take exception to your inappropriate behavior just now. Even if you can't find it within yourself to respect my confidences I would have thought you'd at least spare Booth the humiliation of having to deal with that kind of inappropriate behavior at his place of work."

Brennan completed her commentary by pulling on her suit jacket, and adjusting the buttons until she looked as professional as she sounded.

"Look Bren, sweetie, it's all in fun, surely you know that? I would never do anything to hurt you or Booth, I was just giving you a hard time and tweaking Booth's ego a little bit. Okay? Brennan?"

Brennan's non-responsive nature only served to underscore how upset she was with Angela, and the artist rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Alright, fine. Stand there like a statue and ignore me now but you'll at least hear me out. First, you're my best friend and you know me. You know I love to tease you and Booth and anyone else I care about, it's my way. I love you and I love Booth, and it was all meant in fun. You may not want to admit that now, but you know I'm telling the truth."

Standing stock still, Brennan remained as silent as before though she did appear to have relaxed her shoulders some. Angela put a friendly hand on her forearm and leaned in to force her friend to look her in the eye.

"Brennan, I'm sorry if what I said to Booth was too private to share and ended up embarrassing you. I'll apologize to him later when I see him and I'll explain that I was just trying to get a rise out of you and it didn't mean anything, okay? As for the whole sparing Booth the humiliation thing? Honey, don't sweat it. The pack of hyenas in here earlier was as bad as any gang of construction workers when it came to the comments they were making about our favorite G-Man. Trust me, nothing I said or did will even register on the Hoover radar compared to them."

Angela patted her arm and Brennan finally relented and gave her friend a wary nod.

"Are we okay Bren, or do I need to apologize some more?"

"We'll be okay Angela. I just, well, it's...complicated. Ever since I became Booth's partner there have been rumors and accusations of impropriety between us."

"Impropriety? Do tell, what have I been missing out on?" Angela smirked.

"See! That is exactly the kind of thing that Booth and I do not need Angela, people who know me, people who aren't FBI employees, adding wood to the fire."

"Fuel honey, it's adding fuel to the fire and I don't get the problem."

"Wood is a fuel." Brennan shook her head in confusion. "In any case it's bad enough that Booth and his subordinates are constantly working to put down rumors of alleged liaisons between us, we don't need to exacerbate the situation with someone from the Jeffersonian coming over here and making matters worse by reinforcing false accusations."

Angela didn't say a thing to Brennan at that point but part of her was panicked. It was good that she'd given Brennan only an edited account of her dealings with the pack, because she was fairly certain if her friend knew that she'd gotten rid of the competition by telling them specifically that Brennan was involved with Booth, her friend would be wringing her neck right then and there. Instead Angela gave Brennan a weak nod and a watery smile.

"I got it Bren, and I'm sorry, really I am. Listen, I'll talk to the G-man and do whatever damage control he thinks is necessary, okay?"

Brennan relaxed a bit more and managed to give the artist a more friendly nod.

"Now if you're sure you're staying…"

"I am staying. Booth has a meeting with Cullen and the other SSAs this afternoon so he won't be able to stay with Parker. I am certain that Parker won't want to remain here and the FBI's day care won't admit him since he's sick. I will call Cam after I confer with Booth, but I'll be taking the rest of the day off so I can take Parker home and care for him." Brennan saw the look on Angela's face and groaned. "I know that look Angela, and it signifies nothing. This is nothing more than a favor one partner would do for another."

"Bren sweetie, I know I'm in no position to say anything to you right now so all I'm going to say is this, it's a place called denial hon' and you've been living there a little too long." Brennan's mouth dropped open and she stared at her friend. "Besides if you really wanted to do your partner a favor, the next deep tissue massage you give him you'll both be naked."

Angela pushed past Brennan, ignoring the shocked look on her friends face and left with a parting shot.

"Trust me sweetie, there's a reason the man does all those things for you and never asks for anything in return, the one thing he really wants from you is the one thing _Partners_ don't do for one another."

Angela turned and walked off, leaving her best friend standing there, mouth agape and blushing. The artist recounted all the little revelations of the last ten minutes with a growing smile. First there was the fact that Brennan was taking care of Parker like an old pro, which was sort of odd for someone who claimed to have no maternal instinct and didn't want children. Then there was the very evident change in the partner's dynamic.

Angela was used to seeing Booth push Brennan around; hell he practically mugged her some days he'd get so handsy and bossy. What she'd never seen before was Brennan bossing Booth around, let alone the G-man acting so whipped. Everyone always said they bickered like an old married couple; well this was one big step beyond that, and Brennan using food as a weapon? Please, that was just an allegorical argument for sex. Not to mention the whole family meal scenario or the fact that Brennan said '_when we get home_' – home, not her condo or his apartment but home, as in the place a family lived.

Angela rolled her eyes at the thought, but she had to admit it was as if they'd skipped steps two through five and went straight to six, cohabitating. And yet there was something not quite right. Somehow Angela knew that even with all of the evidence before her; the looks, the sighs, the smiles, the eyes, him baiting her, her playing him, the meaningful touches, and the deep tissue massages – somehow if she confronted them, either apart or together, she'd get the same answer, just partners.

Why couldn't they just commit already? Well she was done being the quiet, supportive one who got crap for being such an obvious fangirl. They were meant to be together. They'd had enough time to figure this out on their own and they were still screwing around, enough was enough! Auntie Angela wanted her vicarious sex life and Booth and Brennan were going to give it to her or someone was going to die trying. Playtime was over.

* * *

><p><em>AN: As always, feedback is welcome…that means leave a review already!_


	2. Leading with the Chin

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately I neither own, nor am involved with, the production of _Bones_. On the plus side I work _really_ cheap, so if Hart Hanson or Stephen Nathan is reading this? Call me.

**Synopsis**: Things start to heat up between Booth and Bones, but will the suddenness of the change in their relationship be the thing that scares away from crossing that damnable line once and for all, or will Booth finally be able to convince her that some things are worth the gamble?

_A/N: A couple of things, actually. First, sorry this is late – my B2B came to visit over the weekend and she brought the MIL2B with her, so I spent Saturday, Sunday, and Monday entertaining my future Mother-In-Law, hence the late posting. Second, Training Day (the first chapter) told us all that the eye color of both the fresh faced young blonde and thin lipped Marnie was green. That was not a mistake, it was a clue. Also, there's some heavy flirting ahead but we're still in the T-Zone for now. Oh, and "Leading with the Chin" is a boxing term that means to put yourself out there...kind of like what Booth did in the 100th, we'll just have to hope for a better result here. _

_As always, adult situations and language apply._

**Guns and Hoses – Leading with the Chin**

* * *

><p>Checking his reflection from side to side for about the tenth time, Special Agent Seeley Booth was finally satisfied with his hair. The shower was quick and hot, just what he needed, and with the addition of a fresh suit and a clean shirt, he felt like a brand new man. A tired, muscle sore, joint creaking new man who was going to pay for putting on that display earlier but still, a new man. Knotting the towel around his waist Booth headed back toward the lockers and became aware of the low murmur of his fellow agents as they spoke.<p>

"…Yeah, but did you see them all panting after him like that? I'm telling you man it just ain't fair."

"Nah, what isn't fair is that it's not just chicks from the Hoover anymore. That one skirt was from the Jeff, hell at the rate this is going it'll be standing room only out there."

"Which is why we should be videotaping his workouts, I'm tellin' ya' there's a goldmine to be had if…"

Booth shook his head, a wry smile upon his lips. At the very least he wasn't the only one who thought the attention he was drawing was ridiculous. The way they crowded around to watch him workout was getting creepy. Maybe he would talk to the Deputy Director about it. Not that he really minded Angela or Brennan coming down, but the others, especially Agent Marnie Brooks, were just a little too openly appreciative for his taste.

As Booth passed the second bank of lockers he heard an entirely different conversation taking place in hushed tones.

"I just don't get it. I mean, I'm as good looking as he is and hell, I'm younger too, so what could she possibly see in him?"

"Jesus, how the hell should I know…that brooding thing he does maybe? Or it could be that smile of his. Shit, my secretary practically swoons whenever he smiles at her."

"Dude, you guys are waaay off. You ever take a shower with the guy? I'm sure that third leg he's packin' has nothing to do with why that '_partner_' of his is smiling at him all the time."

"This is the Men's locker room Rosewood, please tell me you are _not_ checking out other guys in the shower?"

"Whoa! I didn't mean it like!"

"Like what Rosewood?"

Booth had caught the younger agent in the act of tying his shoe with one leg cocked up and a shod foot placed firmly on the bench. He grimaced at the site and as the younger man twisted in surprise to see him standing there. With a jerk of his head Booth let fly.

"Feet off the bench moron; no one wants to park their ass where your size 10's have been."

"Jesus Booth, give the kid a break." Came a wheedling voice. "Why do you always have to be such a hard ass?"

Booth turned to see an older, balding man sitting against the far wall, his fingers still fumbling with his tie.

"Locker room rules Taggart. You don't like 'em take them up with Maury." Booth's mouth twisted into a dangerous grin. "And while we're on the subject, anyone wanting to talk about my partner and me can put on some headgear and join me for five in the ring. I could use a new workout partner."

"Yeah, um, I thought Hoffmann was sparring with you?"

"He was."

"Was?"

"Didn't check his chinstrap."

"H-how bad?"

Booth saw the look of fear in Rosewood's eyes and turned his dangerous grin on the younger man.

"Minor concussion. Doc says he'll be fine."

Booth looked around the room, noting that Rosewood and Taggart were joined by the usual group of second raters.

"Tell you what, you guys think I'm such a hard ass let's play old school rules, whip'em out and measure. The guy swinging the biggest dick can make the rules."

Booth nodded toward the flustered younger agent.

"I'll even let Rosewood hold the yardstick."

Rosewood turned beet red and began backing away from the knot of men, stammering in embarrassment as he went. Taggart stood up then, glaring at Booth.

"Christ Booth, being a hard ass is one thing, but there's no need to be such an asshole. You know the kid didn't mean anything by it, so why push 'em?"

"Let's just say I don't care to have my relationship with Doctor Brennan talked about in the locker room and leave it at that, okay Taggart?"

Booth turned toward his locker, stopping to throw a backward look at the group of agents.

"And if I hear it in the halls? I'm coming back after you...all of you."

Booth turned back to his locker and began getting dressed; the sound of retreating agents grew more distant until he knew he was alone. He'd nearly finished when he came to his tie, and smiling to himself he ran it through his collar but left it untied. Tossing his coat over his shoulder, Booth's face split into an easy grin as he made his way out to meet his Bones and check on how his son was doing.

* * *

><p>Brennan's smile faltered slightly as she got a better look at her partner walking toward her. Though she was far from good at reading people, she could read Booth's body language perfectly. The bounce in his step, his playful grin, the twinkle in his eyes, all told a story to the trained anthropologist's eye. The bounce in his step showed him favoring his left leg, and she chastised him mentally for overworking that quadriceps group; his playful grin tightened ever so slightly as his hips swung, telling her that his lower back was already tightening up; and the twinkle in his eyes…Brennan's breath caught in her throat at the look he gave her, because the twinkle in his eyes was nothing less than naked appreciation of what he was looking at just then, and he was looking at her.<p>

"Hey Bones! Thanks for waiting for me, anyone give you any trouble while I was gone?"

"It was no problem Booth, and everyone here has been quite polite. Why should anyone give me trouble? I have a visitor's badge."

"I just meant…look, it's nothing, okay? I just wanted to know if anyone was hassling you. Some of the guys around here can be less than, um, polite."

"You mean they can be swine."

"Pigs, Bones, and yeah, they can be pigs sometimes. Especially if there's a beautiful woman out here all on her own."

Booth didn't miss the way her breath caught when he said beautiful, and he poured it on by giving her his best charm smile. The blush rising up her neck was just the reward he was looking for. Feeling bold, Booth leaned in until his face was just inches from hers. When he spoke his voice was a husky whisper.

"You sure you're okay there Temperance?"

Her mouth went dry and Brennan was forced to swallow around the lump in her throat. There was no way she could answer him, because the only thought running through her head right then was '_What the hell is he doing to me?_'

Brennan took a shaky breath in an attempt to regain some composure. Ever since her damned high school reunion she'd found it harder and harder to control her body's response to his proximity - especially when he was looking so damned sexy which, if she was honest, seemed to be all the time. Still she'd done well today, despite having the image of his chiseled musculature and smooth bronze skin still glistening with sweat burned into her mind, she'd managed to only slip up once while talking to Angela. Then he came out of the locker room.

It was all Brennan could do to stop from drooling when she saw him walking toward her. He was wearing her favorite three-piece charcoal grey suit. The jacket was slung over one shoulder; his tie hung loose about his neck, his shirt was opened rakishly with the top two buttons undone, and his vest was completely undone. Brennan imagined this must be what he looked like first thing in the morning, when he was getting dressed for work, and she wondered what it would be like to be there to help him get ready.

Of course that thought sent a rash of inappropriate images racing through her head. Booth getting dressed in her bedroom, shaving in her bathroom, taking a shower with her, in bed with her, their bodies tangled in the sheets...

"Bones?" She started at his voice. "Seriously, you're looking a little flushed."

'_Of course I am_,' she thought. '_And why wouldn't I? You just happened to pick today to wear that damned shoulder holster._'

Still, she managed to keep from embarrassing herself, barely, even though he just had to go and call her beautiful, damn him. And now he was standing there smiling at her, making her neck grow hot and her cheeks flush red, but she still wasn't going to give in to temptation. Even when he stepped toward her, with his hair still damp from the shower and the scent of his cologne teasing her, she stood her ground. Even when each breath of his puffed warm and moist over her cheek and made her stomach flip doing summersaults, she stood strong. Even then, that is, until he touched her.

It was an accident, really. He hadn't meant to get so close to her, but he'd seen the blush rising up her neck and he'd heard the hitch in her breath, and even though he knew a good partner would give her the time, and space, to cool down, something within him snapped. He was tired of being just a good partner; he was tired of holding back time and again. The night they'd danced, when he'd held her close and told everyone she was his, how they'd met, how they'd fallen in love, it had weakened his resolve.

It was like tempting a tamed wolf with a juicy piece of meat and then telling it to go back to eating kibble. Booth was sick and goddamned tired of kibble. The wolf was free; the predator took over and before he knew it he was crowding Brennan, pushing her back toward the bleachers. He leaned in, intent on teasing her again, when his chest brushed against hers. He swore under his breath; it was like electricity shooting straight through him. The warmth of her body burned him from the soul out. The delicious softness of her breasts pressed tantalizingly against his chest made him ache to feel their bodies pressed together skin to skin, and he leaned forward instinctively. He lowered his head without a second thought, their faces drifted closer until they were nose to nose. An appreciative growl came unbidden when he caught a whiff of her scent. She was so intoxicating he thought he could get drunk off just the scent of her, but he held on, with his last bit of self control he managed to leash the beast. At least, that is, until she touched him.

Booth was so close, leaning in, his predatory smile, his scent, his heat, the way he growled as he pressed his chest against hers. Brennan couldn't help herself, she needed to regain control, she needed space or she'd lose her last shred of resolve and act on every last impulse she's kept under lock and key for the last five years. As if on reflex her hands came up to protect her, and that's what saved her. It saved her because the instant Booth felt Brennan's hands on his stomach, he froze. Brennan was almost giddy with relief, and Booth, well Booth looked as stunned as she'd felt. She studied the look on his face and let her fingers slip beneath his vest to trace the lines of his abdominal muscles through his shirt.

He groaned inwardly. Despite the fabric Booth could feel each feather light touch as she stoked the fire growing inside him; it was enough to make him want to lose control all over again, but he was afraid to do anything that would make her stop touching, so he did nothing and hoped she'd keep doing whatever it was she was doing. He wasn't disappointed. Her hands soon pressed flat against the plane of his stomach and began sliding up over his chest. Her palms slipped over his pecs, dragging the broadcloth of his shirt over his hardening nipples and his eyes slammed shut in response. The sweet torture continued until he heard a muffled cough from somewhere across the gym, and when he felt her fingertips teasing the skin beneath his dress shirt he quickly covered her hands with his own.

Frustrated by having her fun interrupted, Brennan's mouth twisted into a moue of discontent. Her frown deepened as she saw Booth's eyes open into narrow slits, a faint smil ghosting over his lips.

"Let go."

Booth ignored her request completely and gave her hands a soft squeeze instead.

"Booth, let go...please?"

Eyes narrowed, he released her hands the second time and they immediately resumed their journey only now they had a different purpose. Her fingers nimbly danced across his chest doing up buttons. They slid beneath his collar, smoothing away imaginary wrinkles from the immaculately pressed shirt, and at each opportunity she teased and touched him through starched cotton and brushed merrino wool until his blood ran hot and his control, again, threatened to slip.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Temperance?"

The strained sound of Booth's voice put a small smile on Brennan's face.

"You're not completely dressed yet. I'm dressing you."

Her hands slid up and over his shoulders as she adjusted the back of his collar and Booth's breathing became just the slightest bit labored. Nimble fingers began buttoning shirt buttons, and occasionally caress his bare chest. Brennan's smile widened each time her touch forced a breath to hiss out from between his teeth.

"Bones? You, um, you know we're not alone right?"

She chuckled softly.

"Of course I know that Booth, if we were alone I wouldn't feel the need to help you put clothes _on_."

"You, um, what?"

"Honestly Booth, I'd have thought a virile alpha-male such as yourself would be accustomed to women helping him with his clothes."

"Yeah, um, sure but, uh, I usually dress myself."

"And yet this time you left the job half done." Brennan scolded. "You always try to look your best, and though I find the open collar look quite sexy it's not really professional at work. Don't you agree?"

Brennan slid the knot of a perfect double-Windsor into place and fastened up his vest. There was the faintest whisper of vintage silk as she let it slip between her fingers.

"You…sexy?" he managed to croak out.

"Was that a question Agent Booth, or did you sprain your brain during your workout?"

Brennan's attempt at impersonating Hepburn came across as more of a throaty purr, but it had the desired affect and she watched with gratification as Booth's cheeks flushed from her flirtation. He started to pull back and she let her hands fall, running them over his chest and treating Booth to a sparkling smile.

"Perfect."

"Perfect, Bones?" Booth smiled warmly at her, "was that comment directed at me or the tie?"

"The tie, obviously. While you're an impressive specimen of the male sex we both know you're far from perfect."

"Really? Well what about my chromiums, huh? You said those were perfect."

"Acromion, Booth, and while I'll admit yours are as perfect as any I've ever seen, that in no way indicates that you are perfect."

"Really, so it's just my acromion you find sexy, nothing else?" Booth asked. "Because your fingers aren't anywhere near my acromions."

Brennan looked down and laughed lightly at the realization that her fingers had traced a path down the front of his vest and were currently resting atop his belt buckle. Looking up into the smirking face of her partner, she felt their dynamic shifting again. Flashing him her own coy smile, Brennan stepped back quickly, giving Booth's belt a sharp tug before turning on her heels and walking off.

He laughed under his breath and quickly fell into step beside her.

"You know you never did answer my question Bones."

"Hmm, you're correct. I didn't."

"So?"

"So what?"

"C'mon Bones!" Booth bumped her shoulder. "Answer the question."

"You know approval seeking behaviors such as you're exhibiting right now are more typical in beta-males, not alpha-males, Booth."

"Did you just call me a _Beta_ _Male_?"

"Well if the socks fit…"

"Its shoes, Bones, not socks. Shoes." Booth huffed, quickening his pace. "And you can forget I asked."

Brennan groaned in frustration watching as Booth put distance between them. Even though she'd picked up her pace to match him his longer stride meant that with each step he was getting farther away. Somewhere inside her head a voice was chastising her for ever flirting with him in the first place. '_You knew this would happen!_' It said, '_You're no good at relationships, so why would you risk the most important one of all over sex?_' She cringed at that voice, it had wrought havoc on her for years, constantly preying on her need for Booth and always warning her off wanting more from him. This time, however, the voice wasn't alone. Another voice, a stronger voice which for some reason sounded suspiciously like Angela, began shouting down the pessimist inside her head. '_Dammit Bren! Stop all that self-doubting bullshit and go after the man! You were doing fine with the touching and flirting, now get back out there and make him forget his name!_'

Brennan redoubled her effort until the pace she was setting resembled nothing less than an awkward melding of walking, skipping, and jogging. It worked, though, and she reached the door to the stairwell just a half step ahead of Booth.

"What the hell?"

Panting, Brennan twisted in front of him, letting her back fall hard against the door but never letting her hand off the handle.

"Bones, what the hell are you doing? Open the door so we can go."

"Not *puff* not until you let me finish."

"Oh no, no thanks. I think being called a beta male once per afternoon is my limit, Bones. Thanks but no thanks."

"I was just teasing you, Booth."

Brennan's voice had taken on an aggrieved, almost scolding tenor, the kind normally reserved for particularly slow grad students and FBI techs. It wasn't a particularly strong selling point on her part and he wasn't really in the mood to listen. Booth stepped into her space, his hand reaching behind her back and wrapping around hers which was already on the handle.

"Are you going to move Bones, or am I going to have to move you?"

Her face remained a mask but he felt a hand suddenly pressed flat against his stomach.

"Bones what are you doing?"

"Stopping you," Brennan said simply. "Now are you going to listen to me, or am I going to have to make you listen?"

Booth swallowed hard, cursing her for the power she had to manipulate him so easily but then he saw it, that shadow of uncertainty that seemed to flicker behind her eyes. She was afraid. Any resistance he might have had crumbled right then.

"Okay Bones, I'm listening."

Brennan ducked her head the slightest bit before looking up at him with that open, vulnerable look that never failed to make him want to wrap his arms around her and take care of her forever.

"I'm sorry Booth…"

"Bones, its okay I just…"

"Please Booth, let me finish."

"Okay, go on."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, about the beta male comment. You're not a beta male, Booth, not at all. And while it is technically correct that such approval seeking behavior is more common in beta males…."

"Not helping your case, Bones."

"Like I said, while it is a technically correct assertion, if you'd have let me finish I'd have told you that there's no way a beta male could justify wearing this belt buckle."

"Really?" Booth fought to keep from grinning from ear to ear.

"Uh-huh. But that's not all."

He gave up fighting and started grinning instead.

"Not all, huh?"

"Mm-mm. Your acromion aren't the only things I think are exceptional." She gave his belt a sharp enough tug that made Booth forget why, exactly, he'd been upset in the first place.

"They, uh, they're not?"

"Nope." Her smile widened at the way he was looking at her so intently. "Your supraorbital process is also quite pleasing, as is your mandible."

It took a second or two for the words to sink in and Brennan knew the instant they had because Booth's jaw went slack for just a second before his mouth split into a big, shit eating grin.

"So think my eyes are pretty and you like my jaw, huh?" Booth leaned in and whispered huskily, "Well I happen to think you're very pretty too."

She looked up and saw smoldering brown, he gazed down and saw bottomless blue. It was inevitable. They stood as if transfixed, heads just inches apart, bodies even closer and cocooned by the heat of their bodies until the outside world was just a distant buzz. That's when it happened. When his head dipped just enough, when she stood just a little taller, when their mouths came so close, with Booth's lips hovering over Brennan's, with Brennan's lips parted oh so slightly, with their breaths mingling until a cloud of desire pulsed between them and she could almost taste the tang of his skin, he could almost taste the sweetness of her tongue.

"Hey, Booth!"

Booth recoiled as if he'd been bit, and Brennan jerked away from him so fast her head actually hit the door with an audible 'thunk'. Booth made an about face, effectively blocking anyone from seeing the blushing and incredibly frustrated anthropologist. His shoulders slumped and she let out a sympathetic groan to signify their mutual frustration.

"Hey BOOTH!"

"Yeah, yeah, what's up Maury?"

The jingle of many keys drew a curious Brennan out from behind her partner's back in time for Brennan to see an older, bow-legged gentleman jogging across the gymnasium floor toward them.

"Yeah, listen man, I gotta buddy who tapes the fights. He said he might be able to get you some film on Bishop if you want to get a look at what you're up against."

"Yes!"

Booth cocked an eyebrow as he turned to look at his partner. Brennan had stepped forward and was standing beside Booth nodding vigorously at Maury.

"Such film or video tape would be very valuable for Booth. It would allow him to determine his opponent's fighting style and look for weaknesses to exploit."

"He knows, Bones, that's why he's offering me the films." Booth shook his head and smiled back at the other man. "Yeah, that'd be great Maury. Like you heard my trainer, it'd be very valuable."

"Yeah, well, I'll talk to Mick about those films and let you and your _trainer_ get back to the exploiting and what not. Take it easy Booth."

"You too Maury, and thanks!"

He'd been raised to be a good Catholic, to do the good and honorable thing, to always abide by what was right and just and never, ever, take the easy way out if it meant compromising his values. So it should come as no surprise to anyone that insincerity didn't come easily to a man like Seeley Booth. Still, he thought he carried it off pretty well, after all, it almost looked like Maury believed him when he'd said thanks.

* * *

><p>They'd elected to take the stairs. Booth had suggested it because he thought there was a chance he'd get to recreate the 'moment' they'd been sharing. Unfortunately the second he opened the door Brennan was through it like a shot, and she was half way up the first flight of stairs before he'd taken his first one. Booth grimaced at the familiar burn in his calves as he followed her lead, but refused to match her pace knowing the additional strain wasn't good for his legs. Not that it mattered; Booth could use the extra time to figure out if he was pushing things too hard and too fast. Not his body, but the changing nature of his relationship with Brennan.<p>

He labored after her and let his mind wander over the weeks since their meeting with Sweets. They'd never talked about it, but that night seemed to change things for them in a way neither one could imagine. There was no denying that they'd been attracted to each other since the very beginning, but they'd always put their partnership first. Angela might think they were both in denial, Sweets might think they were sublimating their attraction, but neither knew the real reason. Loving one another was just too damned risky. He'd rushed things with Brennan during their first case and had to wait over a year to get a second chance just to work with her, so from then on he'd taken things slow.

Other women would figure things out in a matter of days, maybe weeks, but Brennan wasn't wired the same, and that's what he loved about her. He knew she wanted him, he'd known since the first time he saw those smoky eyes run over his body, analyzing him like one of her precious sets of remains, God but that turned him on! But Booth wasn't a dummy either; he also knew that her not making a move on him meant she thought he was special. He wasn't like all the other swinging dicks who came sniffing around looking for a quick lay, no, she actually valued him for more than his body. The others were...ephemeral, as she'd probably say in some squinty way, but he was someone she could depend on. Men came and went, but Booth endured.

At least he'd endured so far, but now they were in uncharted territory. He knew that the flirting had gotten out of hand, and he knew it even as they were doing it, but that wasn't really the issue. The issue was that Brennan still panicked easily, and he knew that right now she was busy trying to compartmentalize, rationalize, and forget everything that had almost happened in the gym. He also knew that the reason she was running up the steps like Jason Voorhees was hot on her trail was because she _couldn't_ compartmentalize any of it, and when Brennan couldn't compartmentalize she ran. In fact running was what she did best in these situations, but he wasn't going to let her run this time.

Booth got to the third floor landing and felt a cringe inducing twinge in his calf, so he stopped to take a breather. The ache in his legs was screaming at him that she'd been right; he really had overdone things in today's workout. Booth put one foot on the second step and leaned back to stretch his calf out, a few seconds later he switched legs. Their relationship, he rationalized, was like a muscle. Worked just right it got stronger and stronger but worked too hard you risked an injury. Keep pushing things and you risked irreparable damage.

"Booth?"

His eyes snapped toward hers and he had to smile at the worried look on her face.

"Booth are you alright?"

"Yeah, Bones, just feeling a little tightness in the backs of my calves. You were right; I may have overdone it just a bit today."

Brennan reached down and cupped the back of Booth's calf. Her fingers pressed and kneaded and he couldn't help the small sigh that escaped his lips.

"Jesus, Bones, you really do have magic fingers."

"It's skill, not magic, Booth." She straightened up, smirking at him. "We'll have to add some heat to the massage tonight. I'm worried about how tight your tibialis anterior are already."

"Whatever you say, coach."

Brennan rolled her eyes and the two fell into step as they mounted the stairs. She was more relaxed than she'd been earlier, but Booth knew the gears were turning inside his partner's amazing brain.

"Listen, Bones, about earlier..."

Booth didn't have to look to know that she'd stiffened up at just the mention of their earlier flirtation, and his hand reached for hers in anticipation of her next move.

"There's nothing to talk about, Booth. You were simply flushed with endorphins and your brain was awash in dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin, all of which served to stimulate your pleasure centers and produce a euphoric feeling that resulted in your uncharacteristically unprofessional display of..."

Booth pressed the index finger of his free hand against her lips, and though the action did stop her from speaking, the look she gave him spoke volumes and promised him pain in no uncertain terms if he wasn't quick to make his point.

"Look, we do need to talk Bones but maybe...maybe now isn't really the best time. Just do me a favor, okay? Before you decide this, whatever it is, is wrong or doomed or...whatever, just, just talk to me. Okay?"

Brennan simply stared at him but Booth was sure he could feel her relax just the slightest bit. When she did speak Brennan's voice was almost too controlled.

"I think I can agree to that, Booth. Do you think I can have my hand back now?"

"Nah, sorry Bones, no can do."

"Why not?" She snapped.

Booth had to smile at her characteristic annoyance. That was the Brennan he knew and loved.

"Because, Bones, I like holding your hand."

Her irritated grumbling was the only response he got but she did relax her grip and by the time they'd cleared the fourth floor landing their hands were swinging between them like it was the most natural thing in the world. They continued until they were just a few steps below the fifth floor landing, where Booth stopped suddenly.

"What now?"

"I just wanted to say, this thing we've got going Bones? Don't let it freak you out, okay?"

"I'm not going to let anything freak me out, Booth." Brennan scoffed.

"Yeah, right, like you wouldn't have been half way to Guatemala by now if I wasn't holding your hand."

An indignant Brennan jerked her hand free of his.

"I resent the implication, Booth. I already said I wouldn't make any decision without first consulting you, so why can't you just accept that?"

"Because I know you, Bones, and I know how that big, beautiful brain of yours works and I know that somehow you've got it into your skull that this, this whatever it is, is going to ruin us."

"How could you..."

He smiled at the bemused look on her face.

"You know how, Bones. I know you." Booth snatched up her hands and held them between his. "I know you and I know you're scared, and I'll let you in on a secret. I am too."

"You are? But- but that doesn't make any sense at all."

"Sure it does! Look, Bones, we're partners, okay? And you, you're my best friend, alright?" She nodded. "Right, and the idea of doing this, well, it's not really that big of a deal, right? But then in some ways it's huge. I mean, sometimes it scares the hell out of me."

"It does?"

"Sure, of course it does but at the end of the day I'm okay with it and do you know why?"

"Because the sex will be extremely satisfying?" she baited.

Booth's eyes narrowed, his smile sobered.

"Nice try, Temperance, but I'm not letting you win this round by trying to make me freak out." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "At the end of the day I'm okay with it because it's you, and you're my best friend, and I know that no matter what happens, even if this...thing, this thing doesn't work out between us, it won't change who we are."

"It won't? How can you be so sure? What do you base those assumptions on? It isn't logical, Booth, it isn't-"

"Hey now, just chill for a second, okay? Of course it's logical, I mean, I know you, right? And you know me, maybe better than anyone ever has."

"Not better than Cam."

"Yeah, well, she's known me longer but you still know me better."

"What about your Pops?"

"Yeah, okay, Pops does know me pretty good, Bones, but he knows me from long ago. To him I'll always be his shrimp, but you know the me I am now. The real me."

"What about-"

"Enough!" he sighed, exasperated. "Look, just take my word for it, Bones, you know me best of all, just like I know you best of all, right?"

She thought about it for a second and then rewarded him with a small smile.

"I can accept your premise."

"Wait, what? You can?"

"Yes, I can. We know each other, we're friends-"

"Best friends."

She smiled, as she continued, "-best friends, as well as partners, and the strength of these other relationships means that we have the ability to explore other more...intimate aspects without risk of losing what makes us...us?"

"Close enough, Bones, close enough." Booth gave her a thousand watt smile. "And I promise, Bones, no matter what, I'm not going to push you for more than you're ready to give me."

Brennan graced Booth with a shy, promising smile and squeezed his hand back.

"Thank you, Booth, and I promise you that I won't close myself off from...possibilities, just because there is no guarantee of success."

Booth didn't let go of Brennan until they reached the door. He tried to hold it open for her, but was a step too slow, and Brennan was already through the door and headed down the hallway when she turned back and called out to him.

"Booth, are you coming or not?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but continued walking without pause. Booth shook his head in wonder. They were changing, growing, evolving, but whatever happened to them, she was still Brennan, and that's how he knew things would be okay.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Doctor Brennan, I see you found Agent Booth."<p>

Brennan tilted her head and gave him her patented '_Would you like me to explain to you all the things that are wrong with that statement_?' look, and proceeded to do so.

"Of course I did. I already knew he was working out in the Hoover gymnasium, you confirmed that he was still there, and I've been there several times on my own. Why would I have encountered any difficulty?"

Charlie remembered Booth's advice on Brennan's lectures and decided to rapidly change topics.

"Yeah, well, it looks like Agent Brooks has her hooks into him now, so he'll probably be a while."

Brennan followed Charlie's gaze and saw Booth had been stopped en route to his office by yet _another_ agent. She gave a resigned sigh at the sight. The halls were full of agents wishing Booth well, inquiring as to his training regimen and offering unsolicited advice.

Of course those were the least onerous of the encounters they'd had so far. The balance were far worse.

Those always seemed to consist of some fawning female agent or secretary, invariably a blond, who would approach Booth looking for his input on some minor item or detail. Once they were assured of his attention, that was when their intent became clear, that was when they would surreptitiously use their proximity to Booth as an excuse to make obvious sexual advances toward him. Brennan didn't just hate those encounters, she loathed them.

Not that she was jealous. No, Temperance Brennan didn't do jealous. But it was all rather tiring. Booth didn't return their interest, not even the slightest bit, but these women were annoyingly persistent. Today they persisted even when it was helpfully pointed out that she and Booth needed to get to his office to check on Parker. And a few doggedly persisted even when she reached out and snagged his hand, or carefully laced their fingers together as to tug on his arm and hurry him along.

Not that the women in question were able to interpret such subtle physical indicators; no, they would stubbornly continue their pointless attempts at enticing Booth. Fortunately Booth could, and did, get them, and Brennan had to smile at the fact that he would quickly, if somewhat too politely, end things once she'd made her displeasure known.

Of course, she only did it for Parker's sake, because Temperance Brennan was never jealous.

Brennan heard laughter, high pitched and grating. Her eyes focused laser-like on the source, Agent Brooks. A quick glance at Brooks' demeanor and Brennan's hackles rose up. The other woman was laughing, at an obnoxiously loud level, at whatever Booth had said. Brooks had her head tilted back, exposing her throat to him in a classic submissive pose that was designed to exhibit sexual interest. Given the male dominated nature of the FBI's social hierarchy, Brennan found such submissive displays to be unsavory, to say the least.

At least that's what the anthropologist in Brennan would have said, if she'd been available. The woman in her, however, put it all much more succinctly.

'_That bitch!_'

Charlie cleared his throat, and the understanding smile she saw indicated that the outburst hadn't been as private as she'd thought. Brennan felt a certain flush rising up her cheeks, and it only deepened when she saw Booth place a solicitous hand on the other woman's shoulder and smile.

Without further comment she decided discretion was the better part of embarrassing herself any more, and turned toward Booth's office.

"Did Parker have any problems while I was gone?" she called out over her shoulder to Charlie.

"Uh, no, no. Not a one, Doc." Charlie smiled down at Parker's sleeping form. "The, uh, the little guy was thirsty so I gave him that Pedialyte you left for him."

"Really?" Brennan retrieved a half pint can of 7-Up from the floor next to the couch.

"Yeah, well, he was a little nauseous and I always give that to my girls when they're feeling kinda, ya' know, pukey."

"Pukey?"

"Yeah, you know like when the kid's gotta vomit and stuff?"

"I understood the usage, Charlie, I was just curious if Parker had vomited or not."

Charlie caught the edge in Brennan's voice and quickly brought her up to date on Parker's afternoon. Then, feeling like an intruder, he quietly excused himself and shut the door to Booth's office leaving the Doctor and her charge in peace.

* * *

><p>Walking back to his desk, Charlie looked down the hall toward Booth and Brooks. Marnie had somehow managed to back him into a corner. It was clear she was still buttonholing him about something, and Booth was none too happy about it.<p>

Charlie knew from experience that when Booth didn't like the way things were going it tended to go hard on whoever he was arguing with. He was pretty sure that Brooks, despite her years in the FBI's Boston office, wasn't privy to that information, just as he was certain, from the sparks starting out of Booth's eyes, that she was about to learn.

Raised voices, male and female, were suddenly joined by the dull thud of a low-backed office chair being pushed violently into a Steelcase cubicle wall. Next came the screech of metal drawers being wrenched open, the soft shuffle of someone rifling through them, and the thunderous crash of those same drawers being slammed home.

"Burns!"

The other agents in the bullpen jumped at Booth's tone, but Charlie just held up a finger indicating he needed just a minute.

"Charlie..."

"Just a second, Booth."

"Damn it, Burns!"

Charlie finished his report with a few clicks and then gave Booth his most insincere smile.

"Hey Champ, adoring fans finally getting to ya'?"

"Knock that crap off, Burns." Booth tried but his glower simply glanced off Charlie. He jerked his head toward Marnie's cubicle. "Agent Brooks has a little too much free time on her hands, so she's volunteered to go over the property logs from all the cold cases for the last ten years."

"Well that's awfully conscientious of her, Booth. So, what would you like me to do?"

"Make sure she's not disturbed, okay? I'd hate for anything as frivolous as a case that required the forensic expertise of the Jeffersonian, or even that of our own FBI labs, to distract her."

"Right, so for how long?"

"Until she's done or I say otherwise, we clear?"

Charlie didn't say much, just nodded and smiled as Booth stalked off toward his office. A glance over at Brooks confirmed his suspicions; the unhappy woman was busy working the phones, undoubtedly calling personnel to complain about the punishment detail Booth had given her. He chuckled dryly at the thought. She had a reputation as a hard-nosed agent in the Boston office, but Charlie was wondering if hard-nosed wasn't just another way of saying 'stubborn idiot'.

Rolling out of his chair, Special Agent Charlie Burns cautiously approached Agent Marnie Brooks' cubicle. Her blond hair was tousled, her cheeks pale, her eyes blazing. She jumped at the sound of his knuckles rapping on the metal side of her credenza.

"Listen, Brooks, we need to talk."

There was a frustrated, angry, lost little girl look on her face that almost made Charlie soften. Almost.

"Here's the thing about SSA Booth and Doctor Brennan..."

* * *

><p>Brennan perched on the edge of the sofa and hovered over the small figure ensconced there. She brushed back fever dampened curls to reveal a patch of pale, pink, forehead. Her lips pressed against clammy skin, her nose wrinkled at the scent of stale sweat, but when the flutter of eyelids gave way to two soft brown eyes, Brennan couldn't help but smile.<p>

"Hello there, sleepy head." Brennan's fingers stroked the side of his head tenderly. "Are you feeling better?"

There was a small, sleepy nod.

"Is your fever still bothering you?"

Now a small, slightly more alert, shake.

"Mm-hm. Are you thirsty?"

Parker shook his head no again.

"Uh-uh. I drank that pedia water stuff like you said to."

"I see, and how is your nausea? Do you still feel like vomiting?"

Parker giggled at that.

"What's so funny, Parker? Is it funny that I asked if you were ill?"

Laughing at her confusion, Parker couldn't help but reach up for the elements of Brennan's hair that were hanging down. It was something he always did with his mother when he felt sick.

"No, Bones, it's funny 'cause you said vomiting."

"Really, why is that humorous? It's the correct colloquial term for emesis, Parker. I don't see what's so funny about it, is this one of those things your father was talking about? One of those gross things that's funny to little boys?"

Brennan felt a small smile tug on her lips as Parker's fingers slipped from her hair and began aimlessly stroking her cheek.

"I dunno. It's just funny 'cause you're a girl is all, Bones."

"Because girls aren't supposed to say gross things?"

"Uh-huh. Least ways pretty girls aren't supposed to say them, but you do. You say them all the time and you don't get freaked out or nothing."

"Or anything, Parker, I don't _allow_ myself to get freaked out or _anything_." Brennan said automatically. "I guess I'm not like other girls then?"

"Oh no way, Bones! You're the best! You're really pretty and really smart and you aren't scared of anything." Parker enthused. "Plus you help Dad get the bad guys off the streets using your squinty powers an' stuff, and you're the best cook in the world, 'cept for Sid, and you-"

"Wait, I'm the best cook in the world?"

"Yep, 'cept for Sid, of course."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh, and you make the best Mac 'n' Cheese in the whole wide world."

"Except for Sid's, right?"

"Nuh-uh, yours is even better than his!"

"Parker, it's not possible for my Macaroni and Cheese to be the best in the entire world but I do appreciate the sentiment."

Brennan's fingers threaded through his curly locks just before she bent down reached down and kissed the young boy's temple.

"You got one of those for his old man?"

Brennan stood slowly, turning to meet her partner who quietly closed the door behind him. Her previous frustrations with his behavior forgotten, she couldn't help but return smile for smile or bask in the warmth of the brown eyes that sparkled at her.

"And why, exactly, should his 'old man' expect to be the recipient of such gratitude?"

Booth's lips quirked, turning winsome smile to rakish grin as he stepped closer.

"Where, exactly, do you think he learned that particular sentiment, Bones?"

Brennan smiled down at the softly giggling young boy.

"Is that right, Parker? Did your father teach you to flatter unwary women in hopes of winning their favor by charm or guile?"

"Bones! I don't know what that means!" He laughed, and so did Brennan, but her laughter promptly stopped when she felt strong hands on her hips.

Twisting in his grip, Brennan's hands instinctively landed atop Booth's. There was, as he was fond of saying, still room for the Holy Spirit but only just. Booth's presence was undeniable, and it wasn't just his proximity. She could feel the heat of his hands on her hips; smell his aftershave, the soap from his shower, the mint from his toothpaste, even the faint scent of herself from their previous contact in the gymnasium. His grip was gentle, but sure, and she knew that she could remove herself from his grasp at any time. True to his word, he was leaving everything up to her.

Brennan hesitated.

Booth saw the uncertainty in her eyes and let his hands drop even as he stepped back.

"It's okay, Bones."

"Booth, I'm sorry..."

And she was, Booth could see that. She was still figuring things out, he knew that, and he'd promised not to push, so he wouldn't. Things would work themselves out in time, Booth knew, just like he knew that he had all evening to spend with his two favorite people in the world, and that included a deep tissue massage from one of them. With a final, friendly, pat on the arm, Booth knelt down beside Parker.

So it was, Brennan thought, another moment between them lost and this time there was no one to blame but herself. She watched as Booth talked to his son, the interaction between the pair, the way the boy seemed even livelier with Booth around. She understood that, she felt it too, the way just having him near meant everything was better. So why was she holding back again? Why was she dithering when others would have...how did Angela put it? Taken a ride on that train?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a short, sharp, knock at the door. She turned to see Booth was busy gathering up Parker up and ready to leave with her, so she volunteered to answer it. When the door opened there was a very unhappy looking blonde special agent there, arms filled with file folders and eyes rimmed red from withheld tears.

"Ah, Agent Brooks. I do believe Booth is busy with his son at the moment, anything I can help you with?"

A think lipped smile that was more akin to a sneer slid across the woman's face as she addressed Brennan.

"Sorry Doctor Brennan, but this work is classified and I can only discuss it with Booth."

The woman's every word felt like fingernails across a chalk board to Brennan, and she had to fight the irrational impulse to slap the sneer off her face. Instead Brennan turned on her heels, walked boldly toward Booth and spun him around by his shoulders.

The trained US Army Ranger and Special Forces sniper was totally unprepared for the surprise attack that had Brennan invading his space just then, just as he was unprepared for the full on, open mouthed kiss that followed. Thankfully, his combat honed reflexes came through in time and the kiss ended more or less on equal terms. Brennan's arms had slipped past his defenses and her hands were gamely clawing at his back. Meanwhile Booth's arms managed to wrap themselves around Brennan, crushing her body to his, and his hands had deployed strategically, with one tangled in her hair and the other splayed across her back. His tongue even managed a brief counter-insurgent recon of Brennan's mouth before retreating back across the border of their lips.

The two stood there in Booth's office, entwined and panting, breathless, with the only sounds to be heard the soft flap of file folders falling to the floor and a young boy's laughter.

* * *

><p><em>AN: As always, feedback is welcome…that means leave a review already! Seriously, would it kill you to give me a review?_


	3. Barnburner

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately I neither own, nor am involved with, the production of _Bones_. On the plus side I work _really_ cheap, so if Hart Hanson or Stephen Nathan is reading this? Call me.

**Synopsis**: Things start to heat up between Booth and Bones, but will the suddenness of the change in their relationship be the thing that scares away from crossing that damnable line once and for all, or will Booth finally be able to convince her that some things are worth the gamble?

_A/N: Chapter 3 is here, finally. I do apologize for being late a second week in a row, but this past week has been hell, work wise, and I compounded matters by deciding to completely re-write about half this chapter less than two days before I was supposed to post it, and on top of that it just sort of got away from me so I'm re-working the layout of Chapter 4 at the same time... So, yeah, being creative can suck. Anyway, with Chapter 3 things are finally getting interesting. Brennan staked her claim to Booth with that impulsive kiss, but are either of them ready to deal with the consequences of that claim? And just how is Parker going to feel about Brennan and Booth getting together? And what will happen when Brennan starts to work those magic fingers on Booth's aches and pains? All this and more in this week's edition of Guns and Hoses!_

"_Barnburner" A barnburner is a very good fight, one typified by intense and exciting action that goes back and forth. Typically it's a fight that is so close it's hard to predict who will win in the end. We'll be dipping our toes into the M-rated waters here folks, but as hot as things get they'll only get hotter later on... _

_As always, adult situations and language apply._

**Guns and Hoses – Barnburner**

* * *

><p>Brennan turned off the radio and in an instant the soft sounds of a tired child snoring replaced the dull drone of the announcer on NPR. A glance in the rearview mirror brought a smile to her lips. Parker was asleep in the back seat, his head lolling about his shoulders, his face blissfully at peace. Turning her attention back to the road, she tried not to laugh when she heard a loud, disconcerting snort, interrupt the young boys snoring. '<em>Just like his father.<em>' Brennan thought.

Parker was so much like his father. He had the same soft brown eyes that seemed to be able to read her when no one else could, the same prominent mandible shaping his charming , little boy smile, and of course, the same pronounced frontal bone that protected a very gifted brain. Of course those weren't the only similarities they shared, but they were the ones that only she would notice, and to Brennan that made them special.

And they were special, father and son, special to Brennan in a way that so few people were. Parker, like Booth, was a charming and engaging individual, and capable of such selfless, caring acts that she frequently found herself at a loss for words. And Booth, like Parker, was intelligent and inquisitive, and yes, childish at times, but she found those traits to be the most endearing of all. She saw Booth in Parker's laugh when she managed to tell a funny joke, and heard Parker in Booth's childish complaints when she worked late. They were a father and son, yes, but more than that they were two warm and caring people who saw something inside her worth caring about. They befriended her when she had few friends; they were her family when no one else wanted to be.

Another snort told Brennan that her young passenger would be waking up soon, and sure enough by the time she pulled into the parking lot she could hear him grumbling to himself as he shifted in his seat. A disappointed sigh escaped her lips. She saw Parker frequently, but it was rare when she got to spend so much uninterrupted time with him. And being able to just watch him, and care for him, even if it was just for a few hours, it made her heart ache in the sweetest way for a life she never thought she'd want.

"Bones?" Parker called to her in a sleepy voice.

"Yes, Parker?"

"Are we home yet?"

"Just now, yes." Brennan put the car in park and looked over her shoulder. "Please leave your seatbelt on, Parker. I'll let you out as soon as I collect the groceries."

"Oooh-Kay," Parker huffed.

Brennan rolled her eyes and mentally added yet another way the father and son were alike to her metaphorical list. It took only seconds to retrieve her purchases from the trunk, and in short order she'd freed her young charge from the back seat. Brennan shifted the groceries in her grip and extended a hand to Parker, who took it readily. The pair walked into her building lobby unaware of the curious gazes of her neighbors.

An older man, tall and broad shouldered with salt and pepper hair, came from around the lobby desk with Brennan's mail in his hands. He tucked the mail into the grocery bag Brennan clutched to her chest, before reaching down to ruffle Parker's curls.

"Hey there, Parker." The man's voice was rough from years of smoking.

"Hey, Mister Carlton."

"Afternoon Doctor Brennan, I see you've brought company home with you again."

"Good afternoon, Reggie. Yes, Parker wasn't feeling well so I'm watching him until Booth comes home."

Brennan realized her mistake as soon as Reggie's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Right, well I'll make sure that Carl knows Agent Booth will be here again so he doesn't have his car towed. I don't want a repeat of Labor Day."

Brennan laughed, half in relief that Reggie had mercifully ignored her reference to home and nodded in agreement.

"He does get testy when anyone touches the SUV, though I think Carl takes particular pleasure in enforcing parking regulations where Booth is concerned."

"Yeah, well, you know Carl. Personally, I think he just likes to push Booth's buttons."

"He does indeed seem to enjoy baiting Booth." Brennan stopped then, having suddenly realized something. "Carl doesn't normally work Thursday nights, I trust nothing is wrong? You are doing well?"

"No, nothing like that Doctor Brennan, I just have something very important on my schedule for tonight and Carl's covering for me."

"That's good to hear. I know I don't say it as often as I probably should, but I have become quite accustomed to your presence in the lobby."

The elevator dinged its arrival, as Reggie chuckled dryly at what passed for an endearing comment from Brennan.

"No need to worry about that anytime soon, Doctor Brennan. It's like I always say, these old bones of mine might be a bit creaky, but I think I'll hold out as long as they do."

"Yes Reggie, that is exactly the sort of thing you are prone to say," hectored Brennan, even as she hurried Parker onto the newly arrived elevator. "In spite of the fact that I have told you repeatedly that bones do not creak and even if they did you are in exceptional health for a male your age and your ability to function at your job should not be seriously impaired for several years yet."

The elevator doors began to close and Reggie gave the two occupants a final smile as he heard the young boy begin to pepper his favorite tenant with questions. When Booth had gotten him the job nearly three years before he'd warned the older man that it was a far cry from working robbery/homicide for DC Metro, but he'd also explained just how important it was keeping someone like Brennan safe given the work she did. What the FBI agent never told him was just how much fun the job could be, or how profitable.

"Hey Sam, yeah it's Reggie. Listen, what's the pot up to so far? Really, that much? Any spots left open for this month? Great, yeah, how much to cover the rest of the week?"

Five minutes later he snapped his cell phone closed, leaned back in his chair, and smiled a self-satisfied smile. Carl would be there to relieve him soon, so he wouldn't be late for date night with his wife, the Booth-Brennan pool was up to almost $15 grand, and he was sure he had the inside track on winning. '_Some days_,' Reggie thought, '_it's just good to be me._'

* * *

><p>Booth scrubbed his face with his hands in a vain effort to deal with his mounting sense of frustration. Once Brennan had taken Parker home he'd planned to focus on the paperwork that had built up from the last few cases they'd had, but the kiss his partner had laid on him put the kybosh on that plan. Not that he was going to complain about the kiss, oh hell no. The kiss was, well, it was amazing, but it was also possibly the worst timed kiss in history. The whole thing had only fed the rumor mill already surrounding them, and while God only knew what was being said, his office had suddenly become the hot spot for gossiping secretaries and curious agents throughout the Hoover building.<p>

There was a soft knock and Booth groaned. He heard the door open and close, and without looking up from the form he was reviewing he let his frustration fly.

"Whoever it is better have a damned good reason for coming in here or I swear to God I'll..."

"You'll do what, exactly, Agent Booth?"

Booth's head snapped up so quickly that it was a wonder his eyes didn't roll back in his head.

"Hacker!" he managed to blurt out.

"Assistant Deputy Director Hacker."

Hacker's tone was sharp enough to cut steel and Booth knew the rumor mill had finally reached the top floor of the Hoover building.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

He started to rise but Hacker motioned for him to stay seated. Settling back in his chair, Booth wondered just what Hacker had to say, and he didn't have to wait long.

"Agent Booth, I've heard some disturbing rumors about you and Temperance-"

"Christ, it was just one kiss!" Booth muttered in exasperation.

"Well, that answers my first question."

The next few minutes were nerve wracking for Booth. Hacker didn't speak, he hardly so much as looked at the Senior Special Agent; instead he walked around Booth's office and began a seemingly random examination of the various trophies, certificates and mementos. Booth watched intently from his chair, swiveling to keep his boss in sight. He almost said something when Hacker got to the medals displayed in a shadowbox on the wall, but before he could figure out how to politely as his boss to stop touching his things, the man in question had taken a seat on the edge of the desk.

"You know they say you can tell a lot about a man from his office." Hacker flashed him a disingenuous smile. "Not how clean it is, I mean, all that 'clean desk' crap means nothing to me. No, I'm talking about things like, where his desk is in relation to the door, what he puts on his walls, what little treasures he has out for everyone to see...or not."

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I see when I look around your office, Agent Booth? A carefully constructed lie."

"Now wait a minute..."

"Oh, it's not the kind of lie I'm used to seeing, no, but then you aren't an ordinary man, are you?"

Hacker stood up then, and waived toward Booth's diplomas.

"I notice you've got your high school diploma and your bachelor's from Penn State, but where's the diploma for your Masters degree from Georgetown? Or for that matter, where's your diploma from Quantico? On any other agent's wall those would be front and center for all to see, but you act as if it's embarrassing to graduate with honors from a prestigious school, or to have the top ranking in your class from the academy." Hacker's eyes narrowed. "I imagine Temperance would be impressed if she saw them, but I'd bet you anything she hasn't, has she?"

"She-, we-, I don't keep secrets from her." Booth finally managed.

"Really?"

"Not like that, not the important things."

"I bet." Hacker took two steps and was back at the medals. "So she knows about your service record?"

"Of course she does...mostly."

"Mostly. Right." Hacker pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and began to recite, "Silver star awarded in Kosovo, a bronze stars in Desert Storm, three purple hearts, multiple commendations, citations, awards, service medals..."

Hacker tapped the glass of the shadowbox and shot Booth a knowing look.

"These aren't even your medals, are they?"

"They're my grandfather's." Booth ground out.

"Of course they are," Hacker choked out a laugh. "Of course they are, I mean, hell, if you put yours up there it'd take a whole display case wouldn't it?"

"Now wait just a damned minute-"

"Oh please, Booth, I mean, I've got a pretty good idea of what I was up against now, I just wish I'd known before, I wouldn't have bothered."

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"This, this whole-," Hacker waived his arms around the office, "thing. I mean, I've heard of hiding your light under a bushel before but this is ridiculous."

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

Booth's confusion sapped his anger and he watched as his boss perched once more on the edge of his desk. Hacker reached down and flipped around a framed picture of Parker that Booth had out, his finger ghosting over the smaller photo that was wedged in front of Parker's. Booth nearly protested when Hacker plucked the picture of from the frame.

"This is from the Anok exhibit, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Booth cleared his throat. "Look, I understand that Bones had originally invited you to that but-"

Hacker waived him off.

"No need to explain Booth, that was your case with Doctor Brennan, not mine, and if anyone deserved to be there with her I think we both know it was you."

Booth couldn't hide the surprise at Hacker's magnanimous words.

"Thank you."

Hacker smiled this time, a sad but genuine smile.

"Thank me for what? For being a gracious loser, or for actually being the better man for once?"

Booth gave Hacker a long, hard look and he could tell that there was no more pretense left in the man. He decided for once to give him the same respect.

"If I'm being honest, Hacker? For both."

"Ah, honesty at last. That's good, Booth, that's good. So let's be honest with one another, shall we?"

"Sure."

The sudden change in Hacker's demeanor set off Booth's alarms, and his terse tone was filled with warning but Hacker didn't seem to care. It was a side of the man Booth had never seen before and he knew it could be dangerous.

"So if I was to be honest with you Booth, would you want me to tell you what I hate most? I hate being played for a fool." Hacker slid from the desk and in one fluid motion he'd managed to grab the arm rests of Booth's chair. Leaning down until his face was mere inches from Booth's, Hacker hissed his contempt. "You played me for a damned fool, Agent, and that really pisses me off."

Hacker's naked threat had Booth acting on instinct. Pushing up from the chair in a rush, Booth literally bumped chests as Hacker stood his ground. Nose to nose with his boss, Booth growled out the man's name.

"Back off, Hacker. Now."

"I don't think so, Agent. Not when you're finally being honest with me. No more of that affable nice guy crap. This is the Booth that makes all the ladies wet, isn't it? The bad boy? The angry cop? The South Philly hoodlum? Which one was it, Booth?" Hacker bumped chests with the man. "Which one finally got to Temperance? I bet it was the angry cop. I bet you went all angry cop one time too many and it got her so goddamned turned around she just couldn't wait to jump you."

A blast of hot breath hit Hacker's face as Booth forcibly held onto his temper. Stepping into Hacker's space, he bit back a growl. When Hacker instinctively stepped back, Booth sneered.

"It won't work, Hacker. You aren't going to make me lose it; I'm not going to take a swing at you just to make things easy."

"Never my intention, _Agent_."

Hacker put every ounce of contempt he could muster into the word Agent.

"Fuck you. You want honesty, Hacker? Fine, I'll be honest, but don't you ever play games with me." Booth sneered again. "I know what'll happen if I strike a superior and I have no intention of ruining my career over you."

Booth's eyebrows arched when he heard the dull thud of Hacker's badge hitting his desk.

"You can't be serious."

"Try me, _Agent_."

Booth's lips quirked into a feral grin and the next thing either man heard was the familiar dull thud of a second badge hitting the top of Booth's desk.

"So now here we are, Booth. Just two guys who are both finally being honest with one another."

"Yeah, I guess so. So…"

The word hung out there for a long syllable, and just when he thought Hacker would back down, grab his badge, and try to laugh the whole thing off, the other man launched himself at Booth. Well, mostly he launched his forehead at Booth's forehead.

The move surprised Booth in two ways. First it turned out to be a decent head butt. Booth had experienced a few better, but not many, and if not for his own extremely dense frontal bone he was sure he'd have been physically stunned by the attack. Second, the move was straight off the streets, and Booth was pretty sure Hacker had never been to those streets before.

The fight was nasty, brutal, and short, and not at all the sort of thing either man would be bragging about later.

Hacker had the heart, if not the skill, of a street fighter. First he head butted Booth, and though the move didn't incapacitate the Agent as planned, it did, however, surprise him enough for a follow-up punch to the liver. The shot to the liver was solid and pulled a grunt from the larger man, but the wave of nausea that accompanied it actually cleared Booth's head.

From that point on the fight digressed rapidly. Hacker followed the liver punch by trying to hit Booth in the kidneys, but the accomplished boxer easily stepped into Hacker's space, trapping his arms as he swung. With Hacker's arms pinned against his body, it was Booth's turn to try a head butt, and Booth slammed his forehead into his boss's in a devastating example of what Hacker had tried before. With Hacker stunned, Booth delivered a solid punch right to the solar plexus, ending the fight instantly.

From start to finish, the entire debacle lasted less than 30 seconds.

Booth spun Hacker around and pushed him into his chair. He tucked the man's head between his knees and shoved the trashcan under his nose.

"If you're gonna puke, for God's sake hit the can."

Hacker was barely aware of the door to Booth's opening then closing again, either time it happened. In fact the first thing he was aware of was something cold being pressed against the back of his neck.

"Booth?"

"Relax, Hacker, you probably feel like puking your guts up right now but that'll pass. The headache you feel coming on though? That'll be around a while."

"Great."

Hacker spit into the trashcan a couple of times before he set the cold compress down on Booth's desk blotter. He cracked an eye at the mass of cold, wet cloth, realizing that it was just a handkerchief filled with ice cubes, and let out a small, humorless laugh. Holding a hand to his reddened forehead he cast a glance at Booth. The man stood there, tall and virtually unruffled, resembling nothing so much as a bored underwear model with a bottle of aspirin in his hand.

"Fuck."

"Excuse me?"

"Be honest with me, Booth..."

"Oh jeez, not this crap again."

"Humor me."

"Fine, what do you want to know?"

"How'd I do?" Hacker could read the confusion and clarified. "The fight, how'd I do?"

"Better than I thought you would."

"But you've had tougher." Hacker shrugged. "It's okay. I'm okay with that."

Booth grabbed a chair from the front of his desk and dragged it around to face Hacker. He reached down into his file drawer and, after a little rooting around, produced two cut glass highball glasses and a bottle of 8 year old bourbon. He picked ice cubes from among those in the make-shift compress, and dropped several into each glass followed by a very healthy measure of the golden brown liquor.

Shoving a glass and a couple of aspirin at Hacker, Booth picked up the other glass and sat back heavily in the chair. He watched his boss dry swallow the aspirin, and then take a sip of the bourbon. He chuckled wryly to himself, and drained half his glass in one gulp. This was not how he'd planned to spend the afternoon.

* * *

><p>The rich aroma of four melted cheeses, seasoned with just a hint of nutmeg, filled the apartment. Brennan picked up a wet bath towel and put it with the rest of Parker's dirty clothes in the wicker basket tucked under her arm. She smiled at the little boy who was busy brushing his teeth at the bathroom sink.<p>

"Almost done, Parker?"

"Almosht, Bonesh!"

Little boy giggles echoed off the tile, and the precocious child flashed a foamy, toothpaste filled smile at her. Brennan couldn't help but laugh.

"You're just as silly as your father," she scolded lovingly. "Now hurry up, our show is about to start."

More laughter followed her out of the bathroom, and down the hall toward the utility closet where her washer and dryer were hidden. Brennan loaded her washer and got it started as quickly as she could, but a cry of discontent told her it wasn't quite quick enough.

"BO-ooones! C'mon, the show is starting! You're gonna miss it!"

"There's no need to shout, Parker, I'll be right there."

Brennan managed to stifle a laugh, imagining him bouncing on the edge of his seat waiting for her. However she couldn't contain the laughter when she got to the living room and the little boy was just as she'd pictured him, on the edge of the couch literally bouncing in anticipation.

"What took you so long?" Seeing Brennan's laughing face, Parker protested indignantly. "You're not s'posed to laugh at me Bones, I'm sick!"

"Yes, you are, which is why I'm indulging you for now, Parker." Brennan leaned over her charge and placed a cool hand to his forehead. "However, if I think you're getting over stimulated I just might have to turn the TV off and make you take another nap."

"No Bones! Don't worry, I'm feeling lots better. Besides it's a scientific fact that a pos'tive altitude helps you get better quicker."

Parker tugged on her hand, compelling Brennan to sit down beside him even as he stared up at her with a near perfect imitation of his father's charming smile and soft brown eyes. Brennan schooled her amusement at Parker's overly cute and charming antics. She was familiar enough with his father to see that twinkle in his eyes that meant mischief, and she had the sneaking suspicion that the son was not unlike the father in his ability to use guile and flattery to earn a woman's affections.

"Parker Booth, are you trying to oil me up?"

Parker laughed uproariously.

"Bo-ones, its butter, not oil, and you know that one already."

"I do? Are you sure?" Brennan grinned at the peals of laughter that erupted from Parker as her long fingers tickled his sides. "What else do you know that I know?"

"Boooones! Stop tickling!"

"Only if you'll agree to stop trying to charm me into doing everything you want to do."

It took only a few more seconds of gentle tickling before a laughing, wiggling, red faced Parker agreed to Brennan's terms. The two settled on the couch with Parker stretched out along the couch, his head resting in her lap, when Brennan grabbed the remote and started their show.

"Hey, we didn't miss the beginning!"

Her fingers toyed absently with Parker's soft curls.

"Of course not, I set the DVR to record this particular series just for you."

"You did?" Parker wondered.

"Yes, I did. I thought you, we..." She hesitated.

"We what, Bones?"

"I thought we could watch these together. Whenever you were here, that is."

Parker didn't respond at all to her comment and the sudden silence unnerved Brennan. She felt him shifting under her hand until he'd pulled away entirely, but her focus remained on the show. Seconds ticked by and she refused to take her eyes from the screen, so fearful was she of seeing contempt for her presumption marring the young boy's innocent features. It wasn't until seconds more had passed that Parker gave her sleeve a hard tug, forcing her to look in his direction. What she saw nearly made her cry in relief.

Parker looked at her with those familiar warm brown eyes, and there was nothing but wonder and love etched in his features.

"Parker, I, I..."

"Did you mean it, Bones?" He didn't need to explain what he was asking, Brennan knew.

"Yes, I- I did. I've enjoyed spending time with you the last few weeks, Parker, and while I'll understand if you'd rather I not watch you when your mother and father are otherwise engaged, I was thinking that, if you're amenable to continuing the current situation..."

Small fingers pinched her lips shut, while Parker huffed aggrievedly.

"Bones, I'm not Daddy. I don't know near as much squint-speak as he does, so just tell me if it's okay that I come over?"

Brennan nodded.

"And you really like me? You're not just doing it so you can date my Dad, are you?"

Parker's question drew an immediate, and sharp, negative from Brennan. Parker let go of a deep breath, relaxing at the news. Brennan gently pulled Parker's fingers from her lips and she was about to reach for him, when the boy launched himself at her instead. Small arms wrapped themselves around her neck and she caught a whiff of fresh soap and Booth's shampoo as the boy's hair tickled her nose. He squeezed her and she hugged him back just as hard, until she was afraid the poor boy wouldn't be able to breathe. He released her seconds later, leaning back on his knees on the couch, small tear tracks streaking down his face.

Brennan instinctively pulled him back against her side, turning her body just enough so she could look at his face even as she cuddled him with one arm.

"Are you okay, Parker?"

"Yes," he sniffed.

"Are you upset?"

"No," he said in that same small voice.

"Then why were you crying?" Brennan stroked his face softly, wiping the last of the tears away.

"'Cause you like me, and you want me here even if you and Daddy don't start dating."

"Of course I want you here, Parker. Why would you think otherwise?" She felt a small shrug from the boy.

"I dunno."

"Parker, you know anything you tell me that's a secret, that's just between us, right?"

"Really?"

"Yes, that's what your father taught me. What goes on between us, that's ours and no one else's." Brennan smiled down at the boy snuggled against her side. "So why would you think otherwise?"

"I dunno," Parker's eyes dropped from Brennan's. "'Cause mom's boyfriends always act like they like me, but once they break-up they act like they don't care anymore."

Cupping his chin gently, Brennan turned his face to hers and smiled down at him.

"Parker, I promise you that whatever happens between your father and me, I will always make time for you."

"Because you like me?"

"Because you're very special to me and yes, I like you very, very much."

Brennan placed a small kiss on the young boy's head and he snuggled even closer to her. She re-started the show and the two sat in comfortable silence for several minutes until Brennan's curiosity got the better of her.

"Parker?"

"Hmm?"

"Would it be bad if I did want to date your father?"

"Nuh-uh. It'd be really cool if you were his girlfriend."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, you like daddy a lot and you guys are best friends and stuff, and daddy and me love you and-"

"Wait, what?" Brennan tried not to sound panicked. "Your father what?"

"Daddy loves you, tons and tons, Bones. We both do."

"Really? How do you know?"

"'Cause he told me so, 'course it's a secret so don't let him know I told you, 'kay?"

"Sure, Parker, it'll be our secret."

"Right, 'cause what's between us is ours."

"Uh-huh. Right."

Parker's attention went back to the show and he laughed at the antics of Mike Rowe as he climbed about the rigging of the old windjammer, showing time and again how the show earned its name. Brennan, for her part, hardly paid any attention at all, because there was one thought that kept racing through her mind over and over again: Booth loved her. Booth was in love with her. Tons and tons he said. Booth was in love with her, and he loved her tons and tons, and suddenly Brennan couldn't stop crying.

* * *

><p>Booth approached the door to Brennan's apartment building feeling more tired than he had in weeks. A long work out followed by a longer day at work, a literal fight with his boss and the subsequent long talk that had led to a new understanding between the two men. All of that and he still had a mountain of paperwork to finish before the week was out. Then there was the kiss. Just thinking about it seemed to put a spring in Booth's step. Yes, there'd be consequences from that mind blowing kiss they'd shared – hell, there'd already been consequences - but he honestly didn't care if it meant they could do that again, and soon.<p>

Inside the lobby Booth saw that Carl was on duty; he gave the guard a non-committal smile and got nothing back in return, but he didn't care. Not even Carl the wonder asshole could ruin his night. The elevator dinged and Booth moved quickly, jabbing the button for Brennan's floor. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. After all, he could look forward to a night spent with his son, his Bones, the world's best Mac 'n' Cheese, and a bone melting deep tissue massage from his beautiful partner. On any other night that would have been the cherry on the proverbial sundae of his week, but after the kiss he was hopeful. Maybe he could talk Brennan into a little make-out session.

Of course a little imagination is generally a good thing, but too much time to think isn't. The elevator stopped on Brennan's floor and Booth rolled out of it feeling as nervous as a high school kid on prom night. By the time he'd gotten to her door his hand was shaking so bad he could barely hold the key straight, and he almost gave up and rang the bell. It took several deep breaths, and a few mental head slaps, but Booth finally managed to slip the key inside the lock and get the door open.

Inside Brennan's apartment was all the warmth and comfort of home. The familiar scents of rich spices, vanilla, and jasmine mixed with savory Mac 'n' Cheese. Booth inhaled deeply and felt the nervousness begin to fade, and by the time he'd dropped his gym bag, hung up his coat, and shrugged out of his shoes, it was like any other really great night at Bones' apartment, only somehow it was just...better.

Rounding the corner, Booth saw his two favorite people asleep on the couch. Something disgusting flashed across the TV and Booth felt his stomach flip flop when he realized it was a seething mass of maggots. He gently pried the remote from Brennan's hand, and clicked off the TV before setting it down soundlessly on the coffee table. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Brennan's cheek.

"Hey, sleepy head."

Brennan felt the warmth of Booth's breath ghost across her face, the heat of his lips teasing her cheek, and it felt too real to be a dream. Her eyes fluttered open and slowly came to focus on the warm brown eyes just inches from her own.

"Booth?"

"You were expecting someone else?"

"No, no one else." Brennan smiled sleepily, "I just want you."

"Oh really, Bones? Well guess what, you can have me."

The words hit her slow waking brain like a jolt of caffeine and Brennan's eyes snapped open.

"Booth, you're home."

"Yep, having a little dream about me there, Bones?"

"No, yes, I...maybe?"

Brennan looked at once both guilty and embarrassed, and the blush that pinked her cheeks was so endearing that Booth couldn't help but lean down and drop a small kiss on the end of her nose.

"Don't worry about it baby, I have plenty of those dreams, all the time, and you figure very prominently in each and every one of them."

Booth saw the blush deepen and gave himself a mental pat on the back for embarrassing the unflappable Temperance Brennan. Before he could press the advantage, Parker groaned and stretched, reminding the adults that there was a child present.

Booth knelt down in front of Parker, threw an arm over the sleepy boy, and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

"Hey Bub, you been behaving for Bones?"

"Uh-huh." Parker reached up and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. "Do we have to leave now?"

"What? No way, Bub! Bones made us Mac 'n' Cheese that we still have to eat, and besides she's gotta help fix your old man after his work out today."

"So we're staying?"

"Yep."

"Can we sleep over?"

Booth suddenly lost the ability to breathe, and when he looked up at Brennan for help he found his partner examining the ceiling with a clinical intensity normally reserved for human remains.

"Um, we have beds of our own Parks, and, uh, Bones, um, she may not want us to stay over without, you know, I mean, it's polite to ask before you..."

"I have room, Booth, and you and Parker are more than welcome to spend the night here."

Booth sent a desperate look to Brennan but her face was a mask of sincerity.

"Really Booth, it's no problem and it's not like you haven't spent the night here before, plenty of times."

"See Daddy? Bones says it's okay, so can we stay?"

Booth tried to think of one reason why they shouldn't, and except for the vague gnawing in his gut, the one he got when there was some disaster looming, he couldn't come up with a single thing.

"Well, if Bones says it's okay and you really, really want to..."

"YEA! We're havin' a sleep over, Bones!"

The little boy laughed, and the adults soon joined him. Once the laughter died down Brennan encouraged Booth to sit with Parker and relax while she got dinner ready. Booth thanked her and spent a happy quarter hour listening to his son ramble on about how Brennan had made him feel better, how she really liked him and how she recorded several hours of _Dirty Jobs_ just for them to watch. Of course the entire time Parker was talking about Brennan, Booth was marveling at just how far she'd come since they'd met. For a woman who was worried about not being ready to let people into her heart, she certainly made room for them in her life.

Brennan called them to dinner and both Booth boys made sure to vocalize their appreciation.

"Mmm, smells good, Bones!"

"Gotta agree with my boy, Bones, it really does smell fantastic."

"Well, I hope it tastes as good as you remember. Booth, if you don't mind serving, I'll get drinks for everyone?"

"Sounds like a plan, Bones."

Booth dished up the cheesy goodness. He made sure that Brennan got a healthy portion, and that his son didn't overload his still touchy stomach before loading his plate up. Of course, not everyone appreciated his efforts.

"Daddy, you took too much!"

"What do you mean? I need all of this! I'm a growing boy, after all."

Parker snorted in disbelief, and immediately appealed to a higher authority.

"Bones, Daddy's hogging all the Mac 'n' Cheese!"

Brennan entered with their drinks, rolling her eyes at the pair of them.

"Booth, you know you aren't having just Macaroni and Cheese for dinner," she chided. "Put half of that back."

"But Booones..."

Brennan's eyes narrowed and Parker fairly crowed knowing his father had already lost, he just didn't know it.

"There's salad, Booth."

"Salad?"

"Yes, and there are steamed mixed vegetables - broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots, to be exact." Brennan's voice brooked no dissent. "You will be having both."

"I will? Well, what about Parker?"

"Parker is still getting over his illness, that's hardly the same thing."

Booth grumbled about the injustice of it all, but dutifully scooped half the triple serving of Mac 'n' Cheese back into the pan, and replaced it with a small serving of salad and a single scoop of vegetables. Brennan clucked her tongue at the pitiful servings but said nothing else as they tucked in and ate.

From that point on, however, she had to struggle not to laugh at the antics of father and son. Parker, flush from his victory on the Mac 'n' Cheese issue, took every opportunity to tell Brennan how good his was, how much he loved it, and how he worried he was that there wouldn't be any leftovers for his lunch tomorrow. Booth too, flattered Brennan, and like his son extolled the virtues of both cook and masterpiece at length, while making quite a show of relishing every bite. Brennan, for her part, couldn't decide what was more amusing: Parker's obvious joy when she set aside a full portion of her casserole for his lunch the following day, or Booth's reaction to the smaller than excepted serving he got as a reward for finishing his vegetables.

"C'mon, Bones!"

"Booth, whining is hardly appropriate behavior at the dinner table."

"But I ate the salad and finished my veggies and this is all I get? One lousy scoop?"

Brennan's arched eyebrow, when she looked at Booth, was so pointed it could have been used for spear fishing.

"Eating your greens and vegetables is not a punishment, Booth, and that serving is perfectly adequate for a second helping." Her voice was fairly withering. "However, if you'd like to deprive your son, or me, of having any leftover Macaroni and Cheese for lunch tomorrow, well, I imagine we're both prepared to make that sacrifice."

Booth's resolve waivered under her attack, and broke completely as Parker looked at him with puppy dog eyes and his lower lip protruding in full faux pout.

"Fine, you're right, I'll stop complaining." Booth huffed. "But if you're holding some back for lunch tomorrow, I expect to see you actually eating it, Bones."

"Why wouldn't I eat it if I said I would?"

"You tell me. Last time you made Mac 'n' Cheese and I convinced you to make enough for leftovers, I walked into the lab and you were munching on a granola bar while Angela was eating your lunch!"

"Oh that," Brennan dismissed Booth out of hand. "You're simply upset because I didn't save it for you."

"I was not!"

"Booth, you brought me a garden salad from the diner. I hardly think your intentions were pure." Brennan chided.

"Yeah, well, I only brought you that salad because I knew you wouldn't eat your lunch, and I was right."

"Really, Booth, you're much too worried about what I eat."

"Says the woman who made me eat a salad and veggies instead all that delicious Mac 'n' Cheese."

"Says the woman who doesn't want your arteries to clog from all that cholesterol."

"Aw Bones, you do care."

Booth flashed Brennan a goofy smile and batted his eyelashes at her dramatically.

"Of course I care, Booth, but right now I've very worried about you," Brennan deadpanned.

"Really, Bones?"

"Yes, you seem to have developed a facial tic, and I understand that if you keep making that face it will freeze that way."

Parker erupted into laughter and even Booth had to admit he'd been had.

"Really funny, Bones." Booth groused.

"I told you, I am becoming quite amusing."

Parker's laughter at her joke, and Brennan's obvious pride in putting one over on Booth, soon had him laughing along with them.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a regular Phyllis Diller there, Bones. But don't think I'm gonna forget this, my son teaming up with my gi-, um, partner, against me!" Booth threatened comically. "You two just wait, 'cause you know what they say, 'No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!'"

Parker didn't get the reference and Brennan's confused look warned Booth that her pop-culture knowledge was notably lacking on the subject of British comedy.

"Booth, why would I expec-"

Brennan's question was cut off by Booth's fingers covering her mouth.

"Look, you know what? Forget I said anything. Let's just clear the table, alright?"

Brennan grasped Booth's wrist and twisted his hand away, freeing her lips.

"You know, I don't appreciate being shut up like that."

"Well I'll tell you what, Bones. Next time, I won't use my fingers to shut you up, how's that sound?"

When the full implications of Booth's statement, including the wholly inappropriate ones, sank in, both adults were starting to blush. Brennan scooted back from the table so quickly that her chair nearly fell over, and Booth hurriedly moved Parker back to the living room and in front of the TV.

When he'd gotten back to the dining area he found that Brennan had mostly cleared the table, so he gathered what little remained and went to find her in the kitchen. The two worked together in silence, scraping, washing, and drying the dishes from their meal. It wasn't until Booth had put away the last of the plates and Brennan had packaged up the last of the leftovers, that the stalemate was broken.

"I've set aside the rest of the Macaroni and Cheese for your lunch tomorrow."

Brennan's voice was so soft Booth almost missed what she'd said.

"Um, thanks."

Booth set the glass he was drying down and reached out for Brennan. He winced when he saw her jump at his touch, but tightened his grip around her arm and pulled her away from the refrigerator.

"Bones, please, hear me out." He let out a nervous breath when she looked him in the eye instead of looking away. "Listen, about what I said in there I, I just wasn't thinking."

"I know that." Brennan swallowed over the emotions she was feeling. "I didn't think you'd suggest fellatio in front of your son if you were actually thinking about what you were saying."

"Yeah, I- what?"

"And while I admit the idea has occurred to me before, I thought we'd agreed to take things slowly between us and…"

"Now wait just a damned minute," Booth's hands gripped Brennan's arms tightly. "I didn't mean it like that, okay? I mean, I would never…not that I haven't, you know, thought about it, but talking about that in front of Parker? I mean, you know that's not what I was talking about, right?"

Brennan's face was three shades redder than it had been at the table, and her lips quirked as she fought to contain her emotions. Laughter filled the kitchen when she failed.

"Bones, are you, are you okay?"

"Yes, I am *sniff* I am quite well actually." She swiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "Oh Booth, I just don't know what to think anymore. I find myself enjoying the chance to explore this new aspect of our…of us, but it's as if now that I'm allowed to think this way I, I can't stop myself."

Booth grinned at her confession.

"So what I'm hearing is, not only can't you stop thinking about me, but your mind goes straight to the gutter when you do?"

That comment earned him a hard slap on the shoulder, followed by a flirtatious wink as she exited the kitchen. Booth stood there for several minutes and tried to regain his emotional footing. He had known that taking the plunge with Temperance Brennan would be a challenge, but nothing could have prepared him for the wild ride they were on, or the roller-coaster of emotions that seemed to involve the woman herself. Booth realized, not for the first time, that he was in uncharted territory now, but he was looking forward to learning the lay of the land.

* * *

><p>Pulling the covers up around his son's chin, Booth leaned down and placed a small kiss on the boy's head. A sound from behind the door made him turn - Brennan. She stood there, a dark angel, silhouetted in opening by the light filtering in from the living room. With a tilt of his head, Booth motioned her over. She walked soundlessly across the room, arms wrapped defensively around midsection, and with a look Booth knew she was nervous. He reached out for her, his hand on her arm, guiding her to the boy. Brennan gave him a shy smile before leaning over to place a soft kiss on Parker's head, just as his father had done. The boy's only response to such comfort was muffled by the quilt laying atop him, but the two grown-ups smiled knowingly before slowly backing away.<p>

Brennan followed Booth out of the room, pulling the door noiselessly shut after her. In the light of the hallway he could see her eyes, shinning with unshed tears. His hands pulled her to him, offering the solace she craved without knowing it. He rubbed slow circles on her back and whispered softly to her.

"Shhh, it's okay Bones."

"No, *sniff* it's foolish and sentimental, but I don't care."

"You don't care, huh?"

"No, I don't. He's such a sweet boy, Booth." Brennan looked up at him earnestly. "You and Rebecca are very lucky to have him."

"Oh yeah? Well you know what Bones?" Booth smiled warmly down at her. "I think Parker is even luckier to have you."

Brennan rolled her eyes at the obvious compliment, forcing an unshed tear to escape. She wiped at it furiously, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You're a flatterer, Seeley Booth. A hopeless flatterer," she sniffed.

"Nothing of the sort, Bones. That boy in there, he loves you as much as he loves anyone, and you know what? I know for a fact that you love him back just as much."

"How do you...?" Brennan stared up at him, wondering.

"Because I can't recall any other time in the last five years that the ever rational Doctor Temperance Brennan let me comfort her while she cried about a little boy, just because he said..."

"He loves me, Booth." Brennan leaned into the embrace, burying her face in his arms and enjoying the feeling of perfect contentment.

"He's not the only one." Booth uttered, in the barest of whispers.

They stood that way for a few minutes, but for either of them it could have been forever. Unfortunately the day's events had taken their toll on the special agent.

"Fuck!"

The word came out in a harsh whisper, and Booth nearly shoved Brennan away as he grabbed the back of his thigh.

"Sonnuvabitch!" he hissed.

Brennan dropped to one knee, her hands sliding over the taut fabric of his pant leg, fingers pressing with precision into the overwrought muscle. Booth almost sobbed in relief, as Brennan pushed away the pain.

"Oh God, Bones. Don't ever tell me those aren't magic fingers."

"Very funny, Booth," Brennan jabbed the back of his thigh, pulling a small yelp from him. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me when I say you're pushing your workout too far."

"Yes, dear."

"I'm serious, Booth," Brennan's gaze narrowed dangerously. "You could badly injure yourself, and if you did, how do you think that would make me feel?"

"I dunno, Bones. I'm not sure why you'd feel responsible at all."

If he'd slapped her, she couldn't have looked at him with more hurt.

"I would feel responsible, Booth, because I am your partner. I am the one who watches what you eat, helps you devise exercise plans, ministers to your aches and pains at the end of the day." Brennan's voice dropped to a whisper. "I would feel bad because I, I care about you, Booth."

Brennan turned away from Booth, and stalked off toward the family room. She felt unbalanced, much as she'd felt all day. Being with him drove her to distraction, it was confusing, infuriating, exciting, intoxicating, and she never wanted it to end. When his hands found her shoulders she felt a little of the tension inside her loosen.

"Bones, I'm sorry for being an ass."

"You're not an ass, Booth," Brennan sighed.

Booth gave her a gentle nudge, and Brennan turned to face him.

"I'm not an ass?"

"No, you're not." Brennan smiled. "You, Seeley Booth, are an arrogant, opinionated, self absorbed ass who is prone to ignoring my advice, because you are excessively stubborn, even for an alpha male."

"Fine," Booth huffed. "I'll give you that one. Are we okay now?"

"Yes, we're okay." Brennan pushed him toward the bathroom. "Now go and get ready for your massage, before you turn into a giant Charles horse."

Booth walked off laughing to himself, not having the heart to correct her malapropism. Brennan, for her part, went to her bedroom to change as well as retrieve the things needed for his massage. Brennan pulled her hair back into a messy pony tail, and quickly shed her work clothes and then, with just a second's hesitation, her bra as well. She grabbed an oversized tee from the bed and pulled it on, then slipped into a pair of yoga pants. She wasn't sure why, but experience told her that Booth would be appreciative of this relaxed ensemble, and if she was honest with herself, it felt far more intimate than it looked.

Brennan turned the corner into the living room, and suddenly she forgot how to breathe.

Booth had transformed the space into something that could only be described as intimate. Soulful music was playing and the lights had gone, instead the flicker of a dozen candles bathed the room in a soft glow. The candlelight played across Booth's naked chest making the bronze tinted skin glow. A towel was knotted on his hip, making her fingers itch to see it fall. He looked like a Greek god, or a work of art, only better. Yes, a work of art, only da Vinci's _David_ had nothing on Booth, for unlike the former piece of priceless marble, Brennan knew exactly what it felt like to touch the warm flesh of the latter.

"We gonna do this thing, Bones?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yes, um, just let me, um..."

Brennan was stuttering like a school girl, and the smile on Booth's face gave her a very good idea of just how much he was enjoying her predicament.

"Get on the mat, Booth."

Brennan walked over to him with far more authority than she felt, but she was determined not to let him get the better of her. Booth lay on his stomach, his arms loosely at his sides. Brennan dropped down to the mat, and took a position near his legs. Squeezing some massage oil into one palm, she rubbed her hands together briskly, warming the oil before putting her hands on the backs of Booth's calves.

Booth groaned, moaned, and sighed as Brennan worked the rock hard muscles in his calves, slowly kneading and pressing her way up each limb from the top of his heel to the top of his thigh, working until the taught muscle gave way and became pliable again. This was done to each leg in turn, and when Brennan was satisfied that his legs had been sufficiently loosened up, she lifted a foot and slowly began to work the swollen and tender flesh she found there.

There were no words in Booth's lexicon to describe how it felt to have his damaged and abused feet in Brennan's capable hands. Her palms warmed his skin; her fingers slowly milked the stiff joints of his toes and eased the ache from the muscled flesh. With each stroke, prod, and teasing pull she took away the pain of another lifetime. He wasn't sure when, but at some point in time he'd stopped moaning in approval and started sobbing in relief.

Brennan didn't stop when she heard Booth crying. Instead, she spoke to him in a whisper, her soft, melodic words of comfort coming uncensored from the heart. She spoke of the damage she saw and how it told the story of his life, how it attested to his strength, the nobility of his body, the power of his indomitable will.

By the time Booth's tears had stopped, Brennan was straddling his thighs and stroking warm fragrant oil over his skin. Her knuckles pressed against the knotted muscle deep within his trunk, working them in slow circles until each one popped and released a flood of warmth. Her fingers pulled and teased the toxins from between layers of flesh, pushing and prodding each strip of well defined muscle, until Booth's lumbar region rippled smoothly beneath her hands.

She worked up his vertebral column, pressing, pushing, realigning discs and ligaments, while Booth grunted and groaned his approval. By the time she'd begun working on his deltoids the sounds coming from Booth drifted toward the pornographic, with moans and groans that seemed to become more and more guttural as her hands kneaded his oil slicked skin. The effect of his voice, the sounds he was making, the feel of his body beneath her hands and between her legs, had Brennan feeling more and more adventurous. Her touch became lighter, more teasing, as her hands stroked his neck or traced paths down his arms.

"Bones?"

Booth's voice was a low growl, and Brennan barely recognized her own breathy response.

"Yes, Booth?"

"I think I'm done on that side, how 'bout we take care of the front now?"

She'd always known what an amazing physical specimen he was, but nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of him turning over as she continued to straddle his thighs, or the look of naked desire in his eyes as his gaze swept over her. The intensity of the moment threatened to overwhelm her, but Brennan blindly reached out for the oil again, intent on finishing the massage. That's when she felt Booth's hand cover hers.

A shock ran through her body at his touch. She felt the bottle slip from her grasp, and watched in stunned amazement as he upended it over his chest and squeezed. Brennan stared at the oil pooling on his chest, entranced by the way the flickering candlelight danced across the rippling surface. She felt a burgeoning need to run her hands through the oil and map out every square inch of his skin, to feel everything there was to feel about him, but somewhere inside a voice urged caution.

Her control held.

"Booth?"

Booth could read the want in her, he could feel the heat building inside her, and he could sense the growing need they both had. He'd promised her that they'd go slow, he promised her he wouldn't push, he promised that he'd only take things as far as she wanted. And yet, how could he say no when he knew what she wanted, he could see she was ready to take whatever he would give. Her voice called out to him again, a hot, breathy whisper of want.

"Booth?"

"What's the matter, Bones? Don't you want just a little taste?"

The word taste invoked the thought of tasting him, and that was more than her poor harried inner voice of caution could stand. The last thread of control snapped, and Brennan's hands slapped against the puddling oil, smearing it in broad streaks over his chest and down his sides.

She lowered her mouth to his clavicle, allowing her teeth to nip at his firm flesh, then letting her lips sooth away the tender bite marks. Brennan proceeded then to bite, lick, and kiss her way across his upper chest. She sucked hard on a small, brown nipple, nibbled on his Adam's apple, laved a path up the side of his throat to the underside of his jaw, and laid a trail of small sucking kisses from there to the base of his ear.

Booth, for his part, was not content to remain an observer for long. As Brennan busied herself with an oral tour of his upper chest, his calloused hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. Rough fingers trailed over silken skin as he traced the length of her spine. His hands slid down her sides until he could feel the weight of supple flesh pressed against his palms.

Her teeth had sunk into the meaty lobe of his ear, sucking the sweet flesh into her greedy mouth, when she felt the thick, calloused pads of his thumbs drag over her nipples. Brennan gasped in surprise, and pulled back enough to see the needful look in Booth's eyes.

"Booth..." she moaned as his thumbs teased her nipples again.

"Bones? Lose the shirt."

Reluctantly breaking contact with him, Brennan slowly sat up, allowing his hands trail down her chest as she pulled the oil stained tee up and over her head. With a vast expanse of new skin available to him, Booth wasted no time in exploring her. Brennan moaned in delight as his broad hands caressed the flat plane of her stomach, and then slid up her chest to cup the soft globes of her breasts. He palmed them gently, while calloused fingers caressed and molded the yielding flesh.

"My God, Baby, you're so beautiful."

She arched her back in response to the way his nimble fingers rolled and pinched her nipples into exquisite hardness. Booth continued his ministrations, kneading her ample breasts, raking her sensitive nipples with his blunt nails, and drawing moan after moan from his enthusiastic partner. Brennan became lost in a lust induced haze as each stroke across her sensitive nipples sent a dizzying pulse straight through to her core. Heat pooled at her center, and she began to rock back and forth, in sync with a timeless rhythm.

Booth's towel had long since given up the fight, and lay twisted beneath their nearly joined bodies. He watched Brennan writhing above him, grinding against him in response to his touch, and he could feel the warmth from her arousal, pulsing behind the thin material of her yoga pants, as it pressed against his rock hard member.

"Bones, baby, I need...I need..."

The rasp of his voice, heavy with want, cleared the pleasurable fog. Brennan looked down into Booth's eyes, black with desire, and knew instantly what he needed.

"I know, Booth. I know, just let me."

She pulled his hands from her breasts, and pushed them down to her hips where Booth hastily worked at helping her remove her yoga pants. Brennan leaned forward, lifting off of him to make the task easier, and a distracted Booth took immediate advantage of the change in position. Lifting his head, he captured one of her firm nipples with his mouth. His teeth raked over the delicate skin of her areola, his tongue soothed the sweet flesh, and his lips wrapped around her, sucking on the pebbled morsel with an intensity that drew gasps of delight.

Brennan sighed in ecstasy at the way his skillful mouth lavished each breast in turn. With a little help, she'd managed to push her yoga pants down to her ankles, and even pulled one leg free. Now the only barrier left was the thin lace of her boy shorts. She could feel how long and hard he was, nestled against the join of her thighs. She could feel the fire burning inside her, her core threatening to explode as she rocked against him, the moisture pooling, soaking through her panties.

She rocked back again, twisting against him and Booth groaned in pleasure. She was driving him insane, the sweet and delicate taste of her breasts, the rich scent of her arousal, the way she was grinding the sodden lace of her panties against his cock. It was enough to make Booth lose his mind.

"God Bones!" He gasped as she rocked again. "Jesus woman, you're fucking killing me!"

Brennan laughed and rolled her hips as she rocked against his throbbing cock.

"Really, Booth? Mmm, you seem quite, ohhh, healthy to me!"

Booth grabbed her by the hips, holding her in place as he drove the length of his cock over the lace clad lips of her pussy again and again. Brennan twisted in his grip; the sensation of his mouth on her breasts, coupled with the friction of his cock as it drug the wet lace over her pussy lips, was driving her insane.

"Fuck! Oh, FUCK Booth"

"Tell me what you need, baby, just tell me."

"More, Booth, I need *oh yes* I need more!"

Somewhere, in the back of Booth's lust addled brain, he knew he had to ask.

"Are, are you sure?"

Brennan grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back down onto the mat so hard his head bounced.

"I know what I want, damn you, Booth! I want you, all of you!"

He never took his eyes off of her.

His fingers slip past the waist of her boy shorts, there was the sound of silk tearing, and suddenly cool air and hot Booth surrounded her. Her knees cradled his slim hips as if it was the most natural thing for them to do. Her hands still clutched at his shoulders, his eyes still locked on hers, as he pressed the mushroom head of his cock against her entrance, stopping only when he felt her body tense the slightest bit.

"More." Brennan mewled in protest, so Booth continued, slowly, almost tortuously, pressing forward, pushing into her slick folds, pressing into her silken heat, feeling her stretch around him as he sank deeper and deeper into her. She gasped at the feel of him inside her. He was long and thick, and it was amazing the way he filled her up. Booth pushed deeper into her, and she could feel him touching places inside her no man had ever touched before. Then he began to move insider her.

Booth gripped her hips hard, the fingers digging into her plaint flesh encouraging her to match the steady rhythm he set. His eyes roamed over her body taking everything in. He could see the tell-tale blush building on her chest, rising along her neck, the bounce of her breasts as she rocked with him, the way her head rolled as he stroked into her, smooth and wet. Brennan's thighs gripped him; her knees seemed pressed against him as she rode him harder and faster, faster and harder. Booth matched her pace, stroke for stroke, marveling at her abandon as hands clawed his chest, and fingers scratched across his stomach. She felt hotter, slicker, like molten honey as he drove inside, and Booth knew she was close.

Brennan could feel him moving inside her, each movement, each thrust, pushed her higher and higher, until all she could feel was him, white hot and burning her from the inside out. Her hands raked his body, trimmed nails trailing over his bronzed flesh in a vain effort to find some purchase, trying to keep from floating away on the cloud of pleasure that enveloped her, when she felt his hand between them. Thick and calloused, his thumb pressed against her swollen clit, rough ridges grinding against the sensitive bundle of nerves as his hips lifted again and again, driving deeper and deeper into her, driving her toward her release.

"Yes! Oh God Booth, fuck yesss!" She arched, moaning and gasping his name in affirmation. "Booth, oooh God yes, Booth, fuck yes, oh fuck…"

She half collapsed on him, one hand resting above his heart, the other pushing sweat dampened hair from her face now that the pony tail had long gone. Brennan could feel his vitality still in the heavy beat of his heart, and the pulsing heat of his cock. Booth drew breath in ragged snorts, his body nearly rigid from unspent passion, sweat beading across his skin.

"Poor baby," Her voice was thick with contentment. "You didn't cum yet." Brennan squeezed him, and Booth groaned feeling the muscles of her loins as they pulled and milked the whole length of him.

"Fuck, Jesus Bones!" Booth's teeth ground together. "Woman, you are playing with fucking fire."

"Burn me, Booth."

It could have been what she said, it might have been the taunting way those words rolled out of that beautiful mouth, or maybe it was the way her pussy clenched around him as she said it, but whatever it was, Booth's reaction was instantaneous.

"Hold on, baby."

Brennan let out a surprised yelp as he rolled them over without breaking their connection. Suddenly she was looking up at Booth, whose broad frame and atavistic sexuality crowded out anything else. His eyes burned in the candlelight, setting her afire all over again, and Booth shifted his hips, slowly pulling out until just the head of his cock was still inside her. Brennan sucked in a breath, her hands grabbing his shoulders as she gave him the smallest of nods. A low, guttural growl climbed out of his throat and he sheathed himself fully inside her once more. They groaned in unison as Booth started to pull back again.

He repeated the process, setting a slow, deliberate pace. It was agony at first, but he entered her again, and again, moving faster each time until he was thrusting into her throbbing pussy at a steady rate. Rolling his hips with each thrust, his cock was continually brushing against that rigid spot inside Brennan until she saw stars exploding behind her eyes. He kept up the punishing pace, pistoning into her over and over, each time harder and faster than the time before, burying himself inside her velvet heat with every stroke, until the slap of his balls against her ass could be heard above the moans, groans, grunts, and gasps of pleasure that filled the air.

Brennan's head was swimming, the heat that had pooled at her core earlier was everywhere now, and it was dizzying. She could feel Booth, long and hard and deep within her, his thick cock twisting inside her as it entered, touching and teasing the walls of her pussy until all she could do was moan incoherently and cling to him in desperation, her fingers bearing down until blunt nails had embedded themselves in his well muscled back. She felt another wave building, the coiled spring within her was wound to the breaking point, and her skin was hot and tight. Brennan could feel her pulse racing through veins filled with liquid fire, and she thought she would combust from pure bliss, and that's when the coil snapped.

Booth labored over her, sweat dripping from every pore of his body as he thrust into her with wild abandon, and then Brennan shattered beneath him and he was swept away in a tidal wave of sensations. "Ohhhhh Booooth!" she mewled, and his rhythm was undone; Brennan came again and again, her pussy clenching around him, gripping and pulling it as Booth had his own blinding orgasm. "Bones! Oh God BONES!" he gasped, his pulsing cock pouring seed inside her molten pussy.

They lay together in a tangle of sweat slick limbs. Brennan lay there, half covered by Booth, his head beside hers, his mouth just inches from her ear. She could feel his heart, thundering in that noble chest as it beat so near her own. She could feel his hot breath upon the side of her head; it came in ragged bursts as his body struggled to recover. She could feel the weight of him pinning her to the mat, and she welcomed it.

"Mmmm, why did we wait so long to do this?"

Brennan's voice sounded like smoky velvet and Booth barked out a laugh at her question.

"Because we're idiots, baby." He rolled onto his back, and she protested immediately.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere, Bones. I just didn't want to crush you."

"You weren't crushing me…I, I liked it."

"You did, huh?"

Booth half rolled to his side to look at her and the sight of a freshly fucked Temperance Brennan, her hair wild and unruly, and her eyes looking at him so dreamily, made him want her all over again. A shiver run through her, and Brennan huffed.

"And now I'm cold. This is all your fault, you know."

"It is not!"

"It is, you overheated me, and then you stole my blanket." Brennan pouted almost comically and Booth laughed.

"Fine, c'mere you big baby."

Booth reached out and pulled a willing Brennan into his arms, he cradled her against his chest and laughed as she curled against him.

"Happy now?"

"Mmm, yes, very." Brennan's kittenish purr brought a low, rumbling laugh from Booth.

"Are you laughing at me, Booth?"

"Nah, Bones, I'm just…I'm happy, ya' know? Really, really happy."

"Mmm."

"It's like, finally, everything is just right, it's just…perfect."

"Perfection is an unattainable abstract that people can't possibly hope to achieve, Booth, and any relationship-"

"Aaaand she's back, ladies and gentlemen. Hey!" Booth laughed when Brennan slapped his stomach, hard. "What was that for?"

"I understood that one, Booth, and I don't think your funny."

"Uh-huh, well I am funny. Maybe you just don't understand my humor."

"That's probably because you're not funny." Brennan snuggled closer to Booth. "Now hush, Angela says that the afterglow of really great sex is something that should be savored."

"Angela says? Really, Bones?" Booth nudged Brennan's shoulder. "Hey Bones, does that mean this met the standard for really great sex?"

"I'll let you know when the feeling returns to my legs," she admonished. "Now let me rest."

Brennan felt his chest swell with pride, and she laughed. They lay together, now partners in more ways than one, and let the flickering light from the candles and the mixed scents of fragrant massage oil and sex, lull them to sleep.

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><p><em>AN: As always, feedback is welcome_


	4. Split Decision

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately I neither own, nor am involved with, the production of _Bones_. On the plus side I work _really_ cheap, so if Hart Hanson or Stephen Nathan is reading this? Call me.

**Synopsis**: It's the morning after the night before and the question on everyone's mind is "What happens now?". Suddenness of the change in their relationship be the thing that scares away from crossing that damnable line once and for all, or will Booth finally be able to convince her that some things are worth the gamble?

_A/N: Sorry it's been so long but life has different plans for all of us. First there was a fire, no worries now but at the time it was something. Then I went and got married – that's been grand but I have to admit all the moving and getting settled in has sort of taken up most of my time. Only now I'm finally writing again so here it is, the next chapter of Guns and Hoses. Hopefully I'll have the next one out in about two weeks! Thanks for everyone who's been hanging in there! _

_Oh, and a little shout out to Chrissy377 who caught the Easter egg I left in chapter two – Taggart and Rosewood were characters in the classic 1984 movie Beverly Hills Cop. I do tend to put a few Easter eggs in my stories, mentions of FBI agents from days gone by, cases the team has worked, or characters from other shows I tend to watch, so if you spot one, let me know and I'll give you a shout out too!_

"_Split Decision" – a split decision occurs when the three judges can't agree on the outcome of the fight: two judges will score one boxer as the winner, while the third judge scores the other boxer as the winner. Split decisions are usually controversial and almost no one is happy with the outcome. As always, adult situations and language apply._

**Guns and Hoses – Split Decision**

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><p>Seeley Booth was a decorated FBI Agent, a former US Army Ranger and Special Forces sniper. He'd parachuted behind enemy lines, escaped from a POW camp, even managed to free himself from the Gravedigger's trap, all without panicking, not even once. So it's odd that the soft sound of bare feet padding across the wooden floor of Brennan's living room would be enough to terrify him.<p>

"Bones? I'm thirsty."

"Wha-? Parker?" Brennan mumbled.

If Parker's sleep filled voice wasn't enough to draw Brennan out of her slumber, Booth unceremoniously dumping her on the cool and sticky mat as he pulled the throw they'd been wrapped in over her head, certainly was.

"It's okay, Bub." Booth hastily grabbed for the towel from earlier and covered himself as best he could. "Listen, let's let Bones sleep and I'll get you a drink of water."

"M'kay."

Booth said a silent prayer thanking an ever merciful God, the Holy Mother, and all the angels and saints he could recall, for the fact that his son was still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he shambled down the hall toward Brennan's guest bath. Pulling a Dixie cup from the dispenser, he filled it quickly and handed it to the thirsty little boy. Booth smiled, watching his son drink and recalling the boy's delight on seeing the small paper cups nestled in the plastic pop-up dispenser. The fact that his partner had bought the unsightly thing just because his son had seen one demonstrated at the store and couldn't stop talking about it, well that made him smile all the harder. Parker drank the water down in one long swallow, blindly set the cup on the vanity top, and grumbled unintelligibly as he shuffled off to bed, his father following close behind.

By the time he'd returned to the living room, Booth could see a very naked Temperance Brennan standing amidst the proof of their passionate coupling just hours before. In one hand she held the balled up remains of her soiled clothing, while the other perched on her hip as she scanned the area. He took in the sight of her, his eyes hungrily devouring the vision of a naked goddess, her skin aglow in the guttering candlelight, and he ached to taste her inch by inch. By the time Booth's gaze had settled on her face he nearly choked. At some point in time, while he was admiring, and fantasizing about, her deliciously naked body, she'd realized he was in the room and was staring directly back at him.

"Is Parker alright?"

Brennan's voice had that raspy, breathy quality to it that he'd only heard before on the rare occasions he'd had to interrupt her sleep. The thought that he was hearing it right now because they'd fallen to sleep together after having the best sex of his life caused his towel to jerk just a bit.

"Booth, I asked you if Parker was alright."

"Oh, um, yeah, yeah, he's fine Bones." Booth started toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.

Brennan's forehead furrowed and she shot him a questioning look.

"You're sure he's not upset by what he saw? Us, I mean?"

"Nah, don't worry about it." Booth chuckled, "Parker's a pretty heavy sleeper. I doubt he'll remember anything when he gets up in the morning."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he could barely keep his eyes open even when we were in the bathroom getting him a drink." His arms circled her waist, slowly pulling her to him. "Trust me, baby, it'll be fine."

Pushing up on her toes, Brennan placed a simple, soft, kiss upon Booth's mouth before dropping back in his arms. She smiled at the elements of confusion and frustration she could see etched in his face.

"Booth, what were you thinking of before?"

"Before what, Bones?"

"Just a few moments ago, when I asked if Parker was alright, you seemed…preoccupied." She cocked her head expectantly. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, that." Booth blushed as Brennan's focus became more pronounced. "It was nothing, baby. I was just thinking how beautiful you looked, standing here, all naked and everything."

"Really, and that's all it was? Simple visual stimulation?"

Brennan ran her hands down his back until her fingers were tracing the edge of his towel, her touch leaving a trail of gooseflesh on his bronzed skin.

"Well, I might also have been thinking about the fact that you sound incredibly sexy when you first wake up."

"I do? Really?" Booth nodded, and Brennan's fingers slid beneath his towel until her hands were palming his ass. "And is that all, Agent Booth?"

His arms tightened their grip around her waist automatically, his hips rolling against hers on instinct. When he looked down at her half lidded, smoky blue eyes it was all Booth could do to choke back a groan.

"Well, maybe, just maybe, Doctor Brennan, I was looking forward to all the nights to come when I'd get to see you naked, just like this." Unable to help himself, he lowered his head to hers and placed a lingering kiss on her swollen lips. "And all the mornings after when I'd wake up with you in my arms, and hear that sexy voice of yours."

Brennan leaned forward and returned his kiss eagerly, her teeth nipping at his lower lip, her tongue darting out to soothe away the sting. The kiss became fierce, and she moaned at the feel of Booth's strong, silken tongue sweeping deep into her mouth. When they finally parted, it was for lack of air, not want.

"Damn, baby. You can't imagine what you do to me," Booth's growl was low and dangerous.

"Oh, I don't know, Booth," Brennan smiled wickedly. "I think I've got a pretty good idea."

The sudden absence of Brennan in his arms wasn't half as disconcerting as the feel of cool air assaulting Booth's thighs. Booth's hardening cock twitched in response to the gleam he caught in Brennan's eyes as she danced away from him, waving the towel like a flag.

"Bones!" He laughed, reaching after her. "C'mere you..."

"Oh, I don't think so Booth," Brennan ducked away from him. "Parker just got back to sleep, we've got to be up for work in less than four hours, and then there's this mess that you've got to clean up."

"I have to clean this up by myself? Really?"

Booth took a predatory step toward her, but Brennan stopped him with the touch of an outstretched hand on his chest.

"Yes, really." Brennan leaned in far enough to kiss him lightly, but stepped back just before he could wrap his arms around her. "Now, you clean up out here while I get ready for bed."

"Yeah, sure. I mean, yes, I'll stay out here and get everything cleaned up, ya' know, by myself while you are, you know, whatever."

Brennan might not have been the best at reading people, but Booth's sudden bout of insecurity was writ plainly in every word and hand gesture. She decided to take pity on him.

"Relax, Booth. When you were done out here I'd assumed you'd be joining me in bed. Was I wrong?"

Her reward was the sudden appearance of one of his patented thousand watt smiles, the kind that made her heart flutter.

"No, not wrong at all, baby."

And then he just had to use his latest sobriquet for her, for what she was sure had to be the hundredth time that night. Brennan twisted her mouth into a seductive smile, her voice singing out to him.

"Oh, Booth?" she called out lyrically.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"You know how you've been calling me 'baby'?" Her smoky blue eyes burned into his, and all he could do was nod in reply. "Well, if you keep it up? You _will_ be sleeping out here, and you'll be quite alone. Are we clear?"

"Clear as a bell...baby."

Brennan scowled as he dropped all pretense of befuddlement, and countered her seductive attack with an arrogant smile she wanted to slap off his face, or possibly kiss into oblivion - she wasn't sure which. Stalking off in a huff, Brennan didn't know what bothered her more; the low, mocking sound of his laughter following her down the hall, or the realization that she actually didn't mind being called baby.

She woke with the knowledge that her world had changed. It was a fundamental, inexorable change, she knew, but it felt...good. Blinking away the sleep, her vision adjusted to the light of an early dawn as it filtered through the window. Feeling the steady rhythm of Booth's breath, the measured beat of his heart beneath her ear, Brennan couldn't help but smile against his skin. This was the very thing she'd fought against for years, taking that final step with him, crossing the line once and for all between partners and lovers, because she'd known almost since the moment she met him that once she crossed that line there would be no going back. Now, laying there curled against his side, her head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her, as if to ward off the cold grey light of the coming day, she had to wonder why? Why she had fought this for so long?

Feeling him shift slowly, almost imperceptibly, toward wakefulness, Brennan let her hand slide over the smooth, warm skin of his stomach and down toward his hip. His arms tightened about her as his lips kissed the crown of her head.

"Morning, beautiful."

"Good morning."

Brennan pressed against him, as if he wasn't already holding her tight. She felt a sudden, overwhelming need to be as close to him as possible. The tee she'd stolen from him in the middle of the night now felt like an unforgiving barrier, and she knew if she could, she'd burrow right into his skin.

"Hmm, someone's feeling cuddly this morning."

When Brennan didn't immediately respond, Booth tried to shift position so he could get a good look at her.

"Bones, baby? Are you okay?"

Two fathomless blue eyes looked up at him, and Booth felt something inside him loosen. Of course that was before the sharp pinching pain in his ass.

"OW! What the hell was that for?!"

"I wanted to make sure this wasn't a dream," Brennan managed with a straight face.

Booth's eyes narrowed and his gaze swept over her face, taking in the smooth, worry free forehead, large innocent eyes, and prim little smile that all said 'liar'. A split second later peals of laughter echoed off the walls as he turned her beneath him, his fingers dancing over her sides and tickling her mercilessly.

"BOOOTH!" she laughed, breathlessly. "St-op it!"

"Stop what, Bones?"

His fingers dug into her ribs, working their way up and down her wriggling body and Brennan's laughter quickly devolved into gasps, giggles, and squeals for mercy. So entranced was he at the sight of a red faced, carefree, laughing Brennan beneath him, that Booth failed to notice the bedroom door open, or hear the sound of small feet pounding across the floor.

"I'll save you, Bones!"

Booth felt the impact of his son's body across the ribs on his right side. At four foot three and weighing exactly 72 pounds, Parker Booth was already taking after his father, so it would be with some sense of pride that Seeley Booth would later note his son had used near perfect tackling form to take him down, squaring his body and hitting straight on with his shoulder. Of course Booth would have to get up off the floor first.

"Parker!" exclaimed Brennan.

"Daddy!" laughed Parker.

"Shit!" shouted Booth.

Parker crawled over a still stunned Brennan to check out his handiwork. As soon as she recovered from the shock of seeing Booth tossed off the bed by Parker's flying tackle, Brennan sat up, pulling the covers with her, thankful that she was still wearing the tee-shirt she'd stolen from Booth in the middle of the night.

"Are you okay, Booth?"

"I, I don't know, Bones. I think Parker killed my back."

Booth's strangled voice elicited a panic from woman and boy, both of whom clambered over the edge to the fallen man. Parker quickly went to his father's side; his small hands fluttering around his dad's face, fingers patting cheeks in between insistent demands that he get up. Brennan's hands move with more precision, if no less urgency, as they quickly slid beneath his trunk and began feeling their way along his spine. Parker's attention was soon drawn by Brennan, who quickly had the small boy helping her in examining Booth's injuries. It was at that time the 'patient' chose to make a spontaneous recovery.

Arms wrapping around both his son and his partner, Booth tossed first one, then the other, forward onto the bed before jumping on top of them both. The next few minutes was a chaos of laughter, shouts, squeals, giggles, and tickle attacks that only ended when the two most important people in his life finally teamed up to take him down. The alarm went off soon after.

"Booth, the alarm," Brennan observed.

"Yeah, Bones, good call. But seeing how you guys have me prisoner, what did you want me to do about it?"

"We need to get going, we're already late."

"How can you guys be late, Bones?" Parker tilted his head at her. "The alarm just went off, and those only go off when it's time to get up, right?"

"Yeah, Bones, what the little traitor here just said." Booth sat up, pulling Parker into his lap so he could continue tickling him. "So how can we be late already?"

"To begin with, you don't have a clean suit here, so you'll have to go back to your apartment to get ready for work. Also you've got to get Parker off to school on time, and that's important, Booth. I won't allow Parker to be party to scholastic misconduct simply because we lost track of time."

Brennan reached for Parker, rescuing the little boy from his father's clutches. Booth smiled at the sight of his son nestled in Brennan's arms, and the adoring look Parker gave her.

"Okay, ya' know what Bones? You're right."

"Of course I am." Brennan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why am I right?"

"Because, Bones, I don't have a clean suit here, do I?" Booth smiled indulgently at Brennan, "and Parker does have to go to school this morning, doesn't he?"

"I already pointed out that-"

"And since his school is closer to your apartment than mine, I might as well go home to change for work and you can take Parker to school."

"Wait, what?" The barely suppressed panic in Brennan's voice made Booth's eyes gleam with mischief.

"Sure, I mean, it makes sense, right? It is on your way to the lab, after all."

"I can take Parker to school?"

Sensing weakness, Parker closed in for the kill.

"Yea! It'll be great, Bones! Can we go in your fancy Spanish car? The one that's worth more than Dad makes in a year?" Parker pleaded.

"Parker!"

"Parker, you're not being nice to your father when you intimate that he earns less per year than a car is worth," Brennan corrected him gently. "Your dad is a public servant, and his work is very, very important, even if he's not given monetary compensation appropriate to his ability or to the value of his sacrifice for society."

"Huh?"

"What Bones is saying, Bub, is that I've got a very important job to do helping people, and even though it's not fair I don't get paid as much as some dads do, or get free cars for doing my job, we don't complain about it 'cause we're not whiners, right?"

"Right," Parker nodded at his dad before looking back at Brennan. "So can we take the Spanish car?"

Brennan looked to Booth for some sort of support, but when she saw the crinkle of laughter in his eyes she could only sigh in acceptance. She'd been outflanked by the father and son team once again.

"Yes, I suppose we can."

"YEA!" The boy slid from her lap and bolted for the door.

"Parker? One thing..."

"Yes, Bones?"

"Why do you keep referring to my car as Spanish?"

"Yeah, Bub, I'm kinda curious about that myself."

"Oh, well there's this girl in my class, and her name is Mercedes."

Booth rolled his eyes, "Let me guess, she's Spanish?"

"Uh-huh. Hey, daddy? Can we have pancakes for breakfast?"

"We'll see; now go on and get ready for school."

Booth shooed him out of the room, and the sound of rapidly receding youthful laughter left the two partners staring at each other from across the bed.

* * *

><p>Two figures in pale grey coats mounted the steps to the platform, each taking turns to swipe their cards before setting foot on the lab's most hallowed ground. Upon the stainless steel exam tables, two sets of carefully preserved remains lay, ivory puzzle pieces that seemed to glow in the harsh light of day. The two figures moved with unerring synchronicity across the cluttered space, their focus entirely upon the remains as they took turns, examining, cataloging, postulating, commenting, and debating.<p>

From her perch in the observation lounge, Angela Montenegro watched them work, coffee in hand. As the air handlers kicked in and a zephyr of cool air blew across her neck, she clutched the warm cup tighter between her hands.

"If you're cold, I'd recommend moving."

Angela started at the all too clinical sound of her best friend's voice.

"Hey, Bren."

"You know, the last time you stood beneath a cold air return vent for a substantial amount of time, you complained the rest of the day about how it gave you a stiff neck."

"And hello to you too, Angela," Angela mocked. "Gosh, it's so good to see you this morning, I've been having such naughty dreams about a certain special agent and I just didn't know who else to talk to."

Brennan stared hard at the artist.

"I would say that sarcasm does not become you, Angela, but we both know I'd be lying."

Brennan made an about face, turning her back on her best friend and making toward the coffee pot and the Sumatran blend that awaited her. The artist watched the anthropologist with interest. On the odd days she was forced to partake of the Jeffersonian's coffee, Brennan moved with a degree of economy that bordered on graceful. Today, however something was off.

She picked up a mug and turned it over and over between her hands, as if she was playing a child's game of hot potato. When she did finally set it down, she hesitated between the sugar and soy milk, adding a spoonful of one then a splash of the other, and repeating the process until Angela was sure the coffee drink would be more akin to a sweetened _café au lait_ than Brennan's regular morning cup.

"Something bothering you, Brennan?"

Seeing the deer in the headlights look at her question, Angela knew something was indeed wrong.

"How did you know?"

"Well, for one thing you're acting like you're at the _Café du Monde_, and not the lab," Angela gently pried the cup from Brennan's hands and set it aside. "For another, you look like you're about to climb out of your skin."

"I didn't mean that. I meant…how did you know you were in love with Hodgins?"

This time it was Angela's turn to stare.

That Brennan had ignored her gentle jibe wasn't unusual, she often ignored Angela's sarcastic asides when it suited her mood. That she'd bypassed the comment about climbing out of her skin, forgoing the opportunity to lecture _ad nauseum_ about the impossibility of actually shedding one's skin or using it as an excuse to launch into lecture mode about greeting rituals of some unknown tribe along the banks of the little Muddy river in Upper Elbonia, that was unexpected but not unwelcomed. No, what had caught the artist totally unawares was the frank manner in which she broached the previously taboo topic of love.

Brennan hadn't only broached the subject; she was asking Angela for an actual conversation about it. Of course the artist should have been happy, she should have squealed like some caricature fan-girl in one of the many Kathy and Andy fan-fictions she'd read, bubbling effusively about epic love, fate, and all that other crap that seemed to obsess those people - not that she had a problem with the romance, but she really only read fan-fiction for the smut. Smut she could have handled right now. Questions about love, about her and Hodgins? That was something else altogether.

"If you're uncomfortable talking to me about it, I understand. I just thought, all those times you seemed to want me to talk to you about…" Brennan stepped back, "It's not important; anyway, I need to get back to work."

Brennan's retreat finally pulled Angela out of her shock.

"Oh no; no, you don't." She grabbed Brennan by the arm and walked her over toward the couch. "You're not getting out this conversation that easily, Bren."

"But you're clearly not comfortable talking about this with me, and I really do have work I need to get back to, so I don't see why-"

"Stop it, please?" Angela sat and waited for Brennan to do the same, "Look, it's not that I don't want to have this conversation, Brennan. It's just…I had a plan, you know?"

"A plan?"

"Yes."

"You're my best friend and you require a plan to talk to me?"

"About love in general? No. About you being in love with Booth? You bet I do."

Brennan's brow furrowed in concern, "I wasn't aware it was so onerous a task to talk to me. Perhaps I should just go."

"Nuh-uh, no way, Brennan." Angela's arm came up automatically to stop the forensic anthropologist from making good her escape. "Just because I'm not ready for this conversation doesn't mean we're not going to have it. And honestly, Bren sweetie, it's not that talking to you is really that onerous, as you put it, it's just, well, it can be frustrating at times because you don't always listen."

"That's not true; I always listen to you, Angela!" Brennan scoffed. "I just don't always agree with your often irrational, frequently nonsensical claims about emotions because I know them to be transitory, ephemeral things that offer only fleeting comfort at the expense of long term loss."

"Uh-huh, and is that why you're worried about letting yourself love Booth? Because you think that it's just some fleeting feeling that's going to fade away and before you know it…"

"I'll be alone, again."

Hands folded neatly in her lap, Brennan's gaze shifted to the floor, and to Angela it appeared as if she was intently studying the carpeting in front of the couch. The artist gave her friend's hands a reassuring squeeze.

"See? This is why I need a plan, Brennan. You hear the words that I'm saying but you're so sure you know the answer to everything that you never really listen." Angela held up a hand to stifle Brennan's protest. "I'm not accusing you of anything, sweetie, I'm just saying that sometimes being a genius in almost everything else makes it hard for you to accept that someone else just might know what they're talking about."

Brennan sat silently pondering Angela's words, and slowly she lifted her face to hers and nodded.

"Alright, you mentioned before about emotions being ephemeral and temporary-"

"Actually I said transitory."

"Yeah, basically that's the same thing sweetie, now don't interrupt and just listen to me." Angela took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "When you think about love, what do you think about?"

"I think, I think that love is nothing more than a chemical reaction. It's the sudden release of the hormones testosterone and estrogen, and the flood of neurochemicals like dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin, and vasopressin that make us feel attracted to members of the opposite sex, that make us feel attraction and desire and belonging and all of these things, these things that the chemicals make us feel, we call those feelings love."

Angela simply stared at Brennan, shook her head slightly, blinked twice and then gave her friend a sadly indulgent smile.

"Okay, Bren, let's try that again only this time without the scientific mumbo jumbo, okay? This is heart stuff, sweetie - just, tell me what you feel in your heart when you think about Booth."

"I, I trust him."

"Okay…okay trust is good. What else?"

"I…he makes me feel safe. I know I'm safe with him, I know that he won't hurt me, not on purpose, and I trust him. I know I can tell him anything and he won't judge me."

"And why is that, Brennan? Why doesn't he judge you?"

"Because he's my partner, Angela," Brennan shot her a reproving look. "Partners trust one another; they have each others' backs."

"Yeah, but partners don't usually spend five years circling one another like two celestial bodies locked in a decaying orbit around a gravitational singularity, just waiting for that moment when the sexual tension tears them apart and they collide in a massive explosion of cosmic radiation." Brennan's eyebrows shot upward. "Sorry, I couldn't sleep last night and there was a show on Discovery about black holes."

"So I gathered."

"My point, sweetie, is that you've been hiding behind your partnership with Booth to avoid dealing with how you really feel about him, and I think we both know how you really feel about him. Don't we?"

"Booth is, well, he's my partner…and my friend."

"Brennan, I'm your friend and I don't flirt outrageously with you, or get all jealous when other men do, and while I worry like hell, I certainly don't get crazy over-protective whenever I think you're in danger."

"Sweets says our partnership provides us with a surrogate relationship, and that while it helps us to avoid the sting of rejection, it also makes forming other, more meaningful relationships impossible."

"Is that what you think? I mean, _really_ think?"

Angela arched a questioning eyebrow at her friend. To Brennan's credit it appeared that she was giving the question serious thought; Angela could only hope that her heart-shy friend could live with whatever the answer was.

"Yes...and no," Brennan hesitated; Angela could all but hear the gears turning in her friend's head. "Yes, we've allowed ourselves to maintain a surrogate relationship for the past few years, and yes, it has kept us both safe from having to face the sting of rejection, not only from other people, but also from each other."

"Go on."

"It's safe. It's a safe choice and we've used it, this surrogate relationship, to avoid dealing with our mutual attraction and, and the potential for pain if one of us were to reject the other. So we hid, we hid behind this lie because it was comfortable and safe and it meant we would always be friends and partners and we would never, ever, have to deal with the possibility of not being in each other's lives."

Angela all but hurled herself at Brennan, wrapping the stunned woman in a fierce, joyful hug.

"Oh Sweetie! I'm so proud of you! You figured it out, finally, all on your own!"

Brennan finally overcame the surprise to work her arms between their bodies and then, with some effort, break the near suffocating grip her friend had on her, only to grasp the confused artist by the arms in exasperation.

"But what's the answer?! How do I know I'm really in love with Booth? How do I know if love is worth it? If loving Booth is worth it?"

Now it was Angela's turn to look exasperated, as she easily shrugged free of Brennan's grasp by standing up in an agitated rush.

"Oh good God, Brennan! You cannot be serious, or are you being this dense on purpose?!" She started pacing back and forth excitedly. "You've got a great guy, a wonderfully hunky sexy muscley hunk of man candy who freakin' adores you and has gone out of his way to prove it to you again and again, and you still have to ask if he's worth it? What's wrong with you?!"

"Well what do you expect me to say, Angela? That just because my body is still awash in the post coital bliss of the best sex of my life, I'm going to forget that I risk losing the most meaningful relationship I've ever had for another roll in the grass?"

"Post coital…sex? You and Booth had-"

Angela's words were cut off by Brennan's fingers over her lips. She shoved the hand away and glared hard at her friend.

"You and Booth had sex last night!" she hissed. "I cannot believe you would keep that from me, Brennan! Especially since you know how Goddamned long I've been waiting for that little tidbit."

"Well it's not like I'm going to give you details beyond that, what goes on between Booth and I is ours, Angela."

"Yeah, well we'll discuss your lack of understanding about the girl code later. A roll in the grass…" Angela cussed softly. "It's a roll in the hay, Sweetie, and I think we both know it'd be a lot more than just a roll. It's Booth, it'd be the whole hayfield, maybe even an entire farm."

"That isn't enough, Angela. That could never be enough to give up what we already have." Brennan's voice fell softly, "A lie can be worth living if the lie means never having to give up what makes you happy."

"And that's what you think? Even now, having actually had more with him, you think you can just go back to what you two had before? You think you can pretend to be nothing more than friends and partners? How can you possibly be content with your surrogate relationship now? How could you be content living a lie?"

"What's the alternative, to be like you?" Angela jerked back as if she'd been struck. "You were in love with Hodgins, Angela. You were engaged to get married, I was going to be your maid of honor, and look at how that worked out! You two aren't together, you could barely stand to be in the same room with one another for months, and now your sexless and alone and trying to live vicariously through me and I really don't think I can do that when Booth and I break up!"

"You know, Brennan, sometimes being your friend is a real pain in the ass." She glared at the wide-eyed anthropologist. "What happened between Hodgins and me? Bren, that could never happen to you and Booth."

"True, I don't have an ex-husband that I still want to sleep with, and while Cam and Booth do have a history, I'm fairly certain they're no longer interested in each other sexually." Brennan ignored the growing look of ire in Angela's eyes. "But what happens when I make some horrible mistake and he ends up hating me?"

Angela took a calming breath before focusing intently on Brennan, capturing her gaze with a deep, earnest look that demanded trust.

"It's not going to happen, Brennan, and Booth could never, ever, hate you."

"Really? I told you that the idea of donating to save a piglet was symbolic at best and you hated me for it, I'm sure I'll say or do something far worse to Booth."

"Oh Sweetie, I've never hated you, not really."

"You didn't want to be friends anymore!"

"No, no, no, no, no! Oh Bren," Angela pulled her friend into another fierce hug. "I never hated you, and I never didn't want to be friends."

"But you said…"

"Yes, I said," Angela pulled back, cupping Brennan's face in her hands. "Bren, I'm a drama queen, okay? I get mad and I say things and I don't always mean them and sometimes, sometimes they take on a life of their own."

"They do?" Angela nodded, tears peeking from her eyes. "And you didn't hate me, not even a little?"

"No Sweetie, not even a little," Angela sniffled. "Not then, not now, not ever. Not even after all the things you said about Hodgins and me."

"Well, those were arguably true," Brennan sniffled too, suddenly struggling to hold back her own tears. "But I'm sorry if what I said was hurtful or painful to hear."

The two women sniffled, laughed, wiped the few errant tears from their faces and laughed again.

"Oh God, Brennan, believe me when I say that what went on between me and Hodgins, it's nothing at all like what's going on between you and Booth. You two, you're starting out with a history, you've got five years together and all the trust and friendship that goes with it."

"Do you think that's going to be enough?"

"Can you imagine yourself with anyone else, Bren? I mean, like ever?" Brennan shook her head no, a small smile starting to form on her lips. "Then, Sweetie, you've got nothing to worry about, because if the man hasn't left you by now there's no way you're ever going to chase him off."

"I'm not sure if I should find that reassuring or insulting," Brennan smiled at her best friend. "But given all that we've talked about, I think I'll choose to find it reassuring."

"So then you're saying..."

"I'm saying that I am ready to enter into a monogamous romantic relationship with Booth."

"Honey, you already had one of those, you just weren't having sex! I'm talking about you and Booth and the 'L' word."

"Lesbianism?" Angela's face contorted into a mask of growing incredulity and Brennan laughed. "I'm sorry, Ange, I couldn't resist the humorous misdirection."

"So are you going to say it, the real 'L' word that is?"

"Of course I am, but I think the first time I tell anyone that I've come to terms with my emotions and I can accept that I'm in love with Booth, it should be him. Don't you agree?"

"Oh, absolutely, Sweetie, and don't worry, I won't say a thing to anyone about anything, alright?" Brennan nodded in response, her eyes glittering with joy. "But we will be having that talk about the girl code later, Brennan. You won't keep putting me off about the sex life forever – and I'll want details!"

Brennan waved off her friend and made her way down the stairs. Angela soon followed suit, though she ended up standing at the railing, in the same spot she'd occupied before, barely noticing the cool air from the vent as it hit the back of her neck. Instead her attention was riveted to the platform below, where the two interns were now preparing their notes for Brennan, and where a certain entomologist was having an animated discussion with the local pathologist.

She watched with interest the way Jack's face lit up as he described whatever piece of information he'd managed to glean from some bit of bug or slime or soil (never dirt though, always soil). She saw the indulgent smile Cam gave back, the one that spoke of worn patience mixed with genuine affection, and for the first time she recognized just how attractive Camille Saroyan was, and how close she was standing to Jack Hodgins. Cam laughed, one of those genuine knee slapping laughs that she shared so rarely, and Angela couldn't help but notice the light in Jack's eyes, just like she couldn't ignore the sudden tightening in her own stomach.

Brennan was right. In spite of having about as much tact as a well aimed brick, Brennan was absolutely right when she called Angela out on how she'd let her relationship with Hodgins end. They'd been in love, really in love, ready to get married in love, and it all ended why? Because she wasn't ready to hear about Grayson hooking up with Cam, or was Brennan right? Was a part of her still clinging to what Grayson represented? The easy-going gypsy sex life, the wanderlust, the serious relationships that lasted only three weeks a year but were there for her every year, the marriage in Fiji - she'd have had to give all that up to be with Jack. Had she really ended things because he didn't trust her, or had she ended things because she didn't trust herself? Seeing the way her ex was now looking at her boss, she wasn't sure it mattered, because the one thing she knew was that she was still in love with Jack Hodgins. He was hers, and nothing would ever change that. It was time she made sure he knew it too.

* * *

><p>The soft sound of papers shuffling resounded in the silence of his office. Booth grabbed another manila folder from the stack teetering precariously atop his inbox and barely stifled a yawn. He was exhausted, but it was the best kind of tired there was, the kind that came from waking up next to his partner after having the most unforgettable night of his life. Just the thought of how she felt beneath him, the memory of how she looked as she came apart in his arms, or how she tasted after he finally got into her bed, was enough to have him counting the minutes until he could see her again tonight.<p>

"Damn, that must have been some kiss." Booth looked up to see Charlie standing there in his doorway, another stack of folders in his hands and a smirk painted on his face. "I mean, I knew once you and the Doc figured things out you'd be gangbusters, but no one, and I mean no one, should smile while filling out manpower reports."

Booth shook his head dismissively, but he couldn't hide the smile that was still plastered across his face.

"What the hell are you talking about Agent Burns?"

"Pffft, don't give me that crap Booth, I heard about the kiss. Hell, everybody heard about the kiss – Brooks couldn't stop whining about it, she really had her sights set on you, ya' know." Charlie's smirk grew bolder at Booth's obvious discomfort, but it didn't diminish the big man's smile even a little. "Seriously Booth, you got any pointers for us old married guys? I mean, I'd sure as hell like to smile like that while I'm filling out req forms."

"Yeah, I don't think so," Booth snorted. "There's nothing I can teach you anyway, it's just good clean living on my part."

Charlie busted out laughing at Boot's last comment and soon the agent was chuckling right along with him. The laughter died down quickly, however, and Booth was soon giving Charlie a worried look.

"Say, Charlie, when you say everybody heard about Bones kissing me…"

"I mean everyone," He nodded soberly. "Look, Booth, it's not entirely Brooks' fault. She was sorta gobsmacked, I guess, and she only told one other Agent that I know of, and that was her little sister."

"Her little sister is an Agent?" Booth racked his brain trying to come up with a face. "Wait, you don't mean the kid that's been running around doing gopher duty for White Collar?"

Charlie nodded, and Booth let out a low whistle.

"That's Brooks' sister, huh. And here I thought she was a college kid from the GWU intern program," Booth shook his head in amazement. "God she's got to be green as hell."

"Yep, Agent Christina Brooks came here straight out of Quantico. Top of her class too, from what I understand, and competitive as all hell."

"Hmm, why do I get the feeling that there's more to the story than you're letting on?"

"Yeah, well, it's probably nothing more than the regular scuttlebutt, you know, sour grapes and all…"

"But?"

Charlie sat down in one of the chairs opposite Booth and leaned in conspiratorially.

"You know that colossal screw up the OC unit had with the Manfredi wire tap?"

"The one that happened last month? The one that was going to blow open the Maggia's ties to the Mexican cartels moving in to the DC area? The one that almost got Furst fired? Hell yes, I've got a half dozen memos about it, and I've had to re-file the forms requesting electronic surveillance on three different investigations just because of that mess." Booth rocked forward in his chair. "You're telling me that Baby Brooks was involved in that somehow?"

Charlie nodded.

"A couple of weeks ago I was down at file admin, pulling the files on the Leacock case in advance of trial, and I overheard baby Brooks and one of the other rookies, some kid named Shaw, and they were arguing about it – and I mean, really going at it." Charlie shifted in his seat before he continued. "Anyway, I didn't catch all of it but the gist of the conversation was that junior Special Agent Christina Brooks was in the process of, um, attempting to advance her career through alternative means by, you know, providing services above and beyond the call of duty for the lead agent handling the tap. Unfortunately for him, that's the exact time one of Silvio Manfredi's goons decided to take an interest in the surveillance van."

"You don't mean-"

"The van was a rockin' and he went a knockin'," Charlie smiled wickedly.

"No way!" Booth's voice sounded scandalized. "Wait, how in the hell did she not lose her job over that?"

"Seems that the guy she was, shall we say, servicing?" Booth nodded, "well, it seems he wasn't the only one she was knocking boots with in OC."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"Hand to God, my friend, hand to God."

"Holy shit, Patrick's got to be 20, 25 years older than her at least."

"Closer to thirty, but from what I hear she's got real daddy issues. Anyway, rumor has it that Furst took the heat for the screw up, so to speak, and took a 45 day suspension without pay, while all she got was a quiet transfer to White Collar."

"Hmm, well, Burke's happily married…"

"And Barrigan is a lesbian, so unless baby Brooks is really hell bent on getting a promotion before she turns one, she's outta luck."

"Oh Jesus, Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you that kind of thing just isn't appropriate! Good God, man, Standards and Practices doesn't tolerate that crap, and you know I don't like it either." Booth scolded, then smirked at Charlie, "And I know for a fact that Barrigan's _not_ a lesbian, not even close."

"What do you mean you know she's not a…" Charlie caught the sight of Booth's ears turning red and laughed. "No. Fucking. Way. That belt buckle is right, you really are one cocky S.O.B., Booth, about that there is no doubt."

Booth laughed at the mixture of surprise and awe that still lingered on Charlie's face and just shook his head.

"That was a long time ago, Charlie, and a gentleman never tells, but I'd have to say you're right," Booth's thoughts instantly went to Brennan and his wistful smile returned. "I really am one lucky bastard."

Charlie stood up then, slowly, and shook his head at the other man's obvious happiness. Stretching enough to make his back pop, and Booth wince in sympathy, the other Agent dropped the files he'd brought with him on the edge of Booth's desk.

"You know, Charlie, for a desk jockey you're one hell of an investigator. I'm pretty sure IOD could use a guy like you."

Laughing, Booth grabbed for the fresh stack of manila folders, missing the fact that his comment had hit the other man the wrong way. The smile that had graced Charlie's face before was gone, replaced by a look of genuine distaste.

"Work for the rat squad? I'd sooner do the dog and pony show circuit for Public Affairs," he griped. "Anyway, I gotta get back to _my_ work, and you've got plenty of your own to keep you busy now, so I'll get going."

Booth had been leafing through the files and was surprised to see that they were all FBI personnel records. He shot the retreating Agent a look and called after him.

"Hey, wait a sec - what in the hell am I supposed to do with these?"

Charlie shrugged.

"Santiago left them with me to give to you, you're supposed to pick out a rookie for our unit, and that pile is what he considers to be our pool of qualified candidates."

"Great, just great," Booth snorted. "So what, they're finally giving us a permanent replacement for Sullivan after three years? Or is someone getting moved and I'm the last to know about it, yet again?"

"Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn't be talking out of class so much…" Charlie replied in a slightly injured tone. "I mean, I don't want to draw too much attention from Operations, after all."

Booth let slip an exasperated sigh.

"Christ, I'm sorry about the IOD comment, okay? Jeez."

Charlie relented, and then turned back to Booth like an eager, gossipy school girl.

"Right, well I heard that there's a re-org coming up. Nothing specific, I mean, Santiago really didn't know much, all he could say was he'd heard Hacker talking about a plan to 'shake up the status quo' and 'maximize agent potential' or some shit. I guess they're looking at some way to make us all sorts of more efficient or do some lame ass cross training gig. Something like that."

Booth swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. '_Shit_,' was the only coherent thought he could form.

"And you're sure that there's no idea who's getting moved or why they're doing this now?"

"Nope, not a clue. Why, you think Hacker's got plans to split up you and the doc?"

The look on Booth's face told him that was exactly what his boss believed, and Charlie tried to reassure the other man immediately.

"Hey, seriously, Booth, I really don't know what this is about but I honestly don't think it's anything more than another one of those cross training things, okay? I mean, you're the best SSA this unit has ever had and our closure rate, hell, _your_ closure rate, it absolutely kicks ass. So I don't think you need to worry, okay?"

Booth gave him a nod, and Charlie finally made for the door. Looking at the other man's retreating back, Booth made a mental note to reward his lead desk jockey for the heads up. Charlie did have a point, there's no way that Hacker could justify moving him to another unit, and it wasn't just his success rate. He was an SSA, he couldn't be moved unless they had a position open for him to take and there were more SSAs right now than they had openings…unless they moved him to Organized crime. And suddenly Booth's blood went cold.

Charlie was right, he did run a tight unit and since he'd taken over as the CID's resident SSA the entire unit's closure rate had climbed until it was tops in the Bureau, not just the best at the Hoover. In fact only one other unit came close, Burke's White Collar unit was almost as good and closed nearly as many cases, but there was no way they'd consider moving him to White Collar or Burke to CID, so shuffling SSA's didn't make any sense unless…Hacker intended to move him to the embattled Organized Crime unit as a replacement for Furst. Suddenly Booth was flush with anger.

'_Goddamn him_,' his anger boiled over at the thought. '_I honestly thought that bastard would keep his word to me! What the fuck was I thinking? Jesus, what am I gonna do now? What am I gonna tell Bones? She's gonna kill me, or him, or me then him. Jesus, what am I gonna tell her?_'

Booth's mind raced as he tried to figure out how to get ahead of impending disaster. A thousand scenarios flashed through his mind at once, each worse than the one before it, until finally, somewhere in the back of his cluttered consciousness, he heard a voice, warm and raspy and infuriatingly logical and uttering a single word.

"_Evidence_."

That word, that voice - Brennan's voice – rang clear, echoed in his mind and drowned out his concerns and growing anxiety. Booth swallowed hard again, and the lump in his throat disappeared. Charlie was right. His inner Brennan was right. Panicking about this was pointless; until he knew the truth, the whole truth of the situation, there was no point in worrying about what Hacker was planning to do. Instead, it was best to just sit here and do the job in front of him and wait until he had evidence, real evidence, that Hacker was exactly the sort of lying douche bag he'd always thought he was.

A malevolent smile crept onto Booth's face as he realized that if he did find out that Hacker was trying to split them up, he would never even get a chance to kick the man's ass - Brennan would beat him to it. The malevolent smile turned into a vicious grin as Booth entertained thoughts of his Bones, venting her spleen on an unsuspecting Hacker.

Booth settled back in his chair, files in hand, as the comforting images of his partner kicking his boss's ass seven ways to Sunday flittered through his mind, and the soft sound of papers shuffling filling in the silent spaces of his office.

* * *

><p>Sunlight gleamed off the chrome trim of the car in front of her, making her wish, yet again, that she'd not been rushed out of the house only to forget her sunglasses. Between the brightness of the early afternoon sun and the unusually heavy traffic Brennan's patience was wearing thin. Light flashed in her eyes and Brennan instinctively hit the brakes, cursing softly under her breath as a Government sedan cut her off, pulling into the Hoover's parking garage. She took a few seconds to calm down before following the black Crown Vic into the parking structure.<p>

Brennan pulled into the first available space that wasn't in one of the 'danger zones' Booth had often lectured about. His over-protectiveness had once rankled her; she was more than capable of defending herself if need be, she was even capable of defending him - a fact he readily acknowledged, and the one that made loving him possible. For all his alpha maleness Booth wasn't like other men. He trusted her to support him; he relied on her in the field and in their friendship. More than that, though, he could accept the fact that she was more intelligent and successful without resenting her for it. Other men were so intimidated by her intelligence or her success, but not Booth. Nothing intimidated Booth, and that's why she loved him, that's why she could love him, because with him she could be herself.

A sudden, sharp, rap against her driver's side window jerked Brennan out of her thoughts.

"Temperance?"

She recognized her former paramour's voice and felt a sudden twinge of guilt.

"Temperance, are you alright?"

She turned to see the long face, high forehead, and watery look of concern that she'd come to recognize as Andrew Hacker's 'worried' face.

"I'm fine, Andrew."

Brennan felt foolish for having allowed herself to get so lost in thought, even more so now that she'd attracted Hacker's attention. Fueled by embarrassment, she grabbed the door release and shoved. Unfortunately for Hacker, Brennan was in prime physical shape and totally unmindful of his proximity to her car. She barely heard the dull thump.

"Crap!"

Hacker's shout drew immediate attention; while laughter probably wasn't the best first response to the situation, sarcasm was definitely worse.

"I've never cared for Starbucks either, Andrew, but I think that's taking things to an extreme." Brennan's laughter drew a sharp look, but did little to quell her enthusiasm. "What? I was simply making a humorous observation."

"Yeah, really funny."

"I agree, I am becoming quite amusing."

Hacker ignored her commentary and focused at the growing coffee colored stain that now covered the lower third of his tie and shirt, and the better part of his crotch. Of course focusing on the stain became that much harder to do when Brennan decided to help.

"Temperance?" Hacker's strained voice drew a moment of her attention. "W-what are you doing?"

Brennan tilted her head, her bemused expression speaking volumes as to just how much she must have overestimated the Assistant Deputy Director's intelligence.

"I'm trying to mitigate the worst of the damage from the coffee, Andrew," she said calmly. "Why, what do you think I am doing?"

Hacker's eyes narrowed and suddenly it all clicked into place for Brennan – his stained trousers, her crouching in front of him, the biological reaction his body was having to the vigorous manner in which she was rubbing his crotch, and the car door that partially obscured them both from a small crowd of passersby.

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'." Hacker brushed futilely at his wrecked tie. "Not that this isn't pleasant, Temperance, but I hardly think it's appropriate for you to be touching me like that anymore. After all, you and Booth are, you know..."

"Anymore implies that I ever touched you like that before," she said cuttingly. "And no, Andrew, I don't know. What exactly are Booth and I now?"

Her normally smoky voice had dropped several degrees, and Brennan was frozen in place, waiting for an answer.

Now Andrew Hacker was an honest man, mostly, and he'd be the first to admit – out of ear shot – that the sight of Temperance Brennan on her knees, her face upturned in eager anticipation, was one of his favorite fantasies. That wasn't what he saw, however, and the sight of a preternaturally calm Brennan squatting below him with her hand gripping his junk through a stack of soggy paper napkins and the sodden fabric of coffee stained slacks was enough to kill that fantasy for good. Of course the problem wasn't just what their current position was doing to his fantasy life, no, it was much worse than that. For Andrew Hacker was a man who'd come up the ranks of the FBI through superior political skill and an amazing ability to read people, and the sight of Brennan below him pretty much shot those skills all to hell.

"Together."

"Together? Explicate your meaning, please."

"You're dating. You and Agent Perfect Pants, the two of you are dating now," he grumbled.

"Why would you call Booth 'Agent Perfect Pants'?" Brennan asked, "and who says that we're dating?"

"Because everyone knows you're dating him, Temperance, and besides, I confronted him myself just to make sure." Hacker laughed humorlessly. "And have you seen the creases in that man's trousers? You could cut paper with them, I swear, and don't tell me it's his dry cleaner, because I've heard that one before. It's the suits he buys, how in the hell he can afford twelve hundred dollar suits on his salary is beyond me…"

"Andrew, focus!" Brennan's voice cut through Hacker's musings like a knife. "Yes, Booth is always presentably dressed and yes, he does devote an inordinate amount of effort in to looking his best, but that in no way diminishes the fact that you are also quite presentable, most of the time anyway."

Brennan's voice wavered, giving just the tiniest indication that she was fast losing her temper.

"Now, please tell me what else you heard about us, Andrew? And what did you mean about confronting him directly?"

Hacker hesitated, but Brennan's hand clenched, almost reflexively, over a very sensitive area of Hacker's anatomy, and quickly gave voice to all he knew, in a surprisingly bright contralto.

"Kissing!" he blurted. "I heard about the kissing, kissing in the office!"

Releasing her grip as she rose with a fluidity and grace that belied her anger, Brennan barely noticed that Hacker had nearly doubled over in relief. Letting out a shuddering breath, he continued to massage his injured pride.

"The whole building is talking about you two, and your secret on again, off again, relationship. I didn't want to believe it, I mean, you're not the kind of woman to cheat on a man, Temperance, and Booth is a standup guy, so when I asked him if you two were involved and he said no, I believed him."

"As well you should," Brennan nodded tightly. "Your assessment of Booth's and my behavior with regard to personal relationships is accurate. I do not cheat, nor does Booth, and neither of us is in the habit of lying about our relationship."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, and it's not like I believe everything I hear about you two. I mean, if I did, I never would have thought to ask you out in the first place," he stood up slowly, a faintly pained expression lingering on his face. "So imagine my surprise when I hear about you putting on a show for Booth's bullpen."

"A show?"

"Of course, like I said, I don't believe everything I hear about you guys, I mean, you know how bad gossip can be at the Hoover," Hacker shrugged. "Still, I everyone was talking about it so I confronted Booth about the 'incident', and imagine my surprise to find out it's all true!"

"Of course, I imagine you were quite surprised..."

Brennan's voice trailed off as it became clear that Hacker was more focused on venting his growing displeasure than anything else.

"I mean, the very idea of you putting on public display of, well, what was described as a 'go for broke make out session' in the bullpen..." Brennan's cheeks pinked at Hacker's description. "And the entire time we were going out I had to practically beg for a quick peck on the lips. Well I guess I know why, don't I?"

"Wait, what?"

"And then when I confronted Booth, well, as you can guess he sure as hell wasn't happy about me poking my nose in, but what does he expect me to do? I mean, it's not just that I'm the other guy in this mess, I'm also his boss – if you two are together, fine, but if this was some sort of test or some weird way for the two of you to work out your issues, well I don't particularly like being made a laughing stock just so you can get your rocks off."

"Andrew, I-"

"And I sure as hell don't appreciate being lied to, not by him, not by anyone."

"But we didn't lie to you!"

"Really? So you didn't have an impromptu make out session with Booth in his bullpen, in front of a dozen agents?"

"Absolutely not." Brennan hesitated, "well it wasn't a dozen agents at any rate. And it was hardly a make out session, it was a kiss."

"Yeah, right. A kiss."

Brennan saw Hacker's arched eyebrow and realized he was already disinclined to believe anything she said, and then she noticed the fresh contusion stretching across his frontal bone and terminating just above the left supraorbital process.

"Andrew, if I'm honest with you, can I depend on you to be honest with me?"

"Absolutely, Temperance; after all, I'm not the one whose honesty is in doubt, am I?"

She ignored that remark, her hands gently cupped his face while nimble fingers slowly probed, her eyes noting every flinch and twitch of pain.

"Did you and Booth have a physical altercation over me? More specifically, my relationship with Booth?"

"Yes, but trust me, Temperance, it's really not as bad as it seems."

"Really, I think I'll be the judge of that," Brennan's voice was as cold and clinical as he'd ever heard it. "Now the truth, Andrew, just as you promised me – who started it?"

* * *

><p>Booth had gone through the personnel records of the rookie agents only to find himself underwhelmed by what he read. Twenty-one files and only three were worth a damn if he was being honest. Twelve were baby agents straight out of Quantico who had no business working in any CID unit, three mid-life crisis's who'd come in from the insurance industry and were perfect for working the White Collar division's fraud unit and not much else, and three ex-military operators who barely managed to scrape by in Quantico and had personality profiles that made them perfect for the FBI's HRT teams. That left him with three viable candidates.<p>

Booth looked down at the files on the top of the pile and shook his head in disgust, but resigned himself to play by the rules just in case. Booth picked up his phone and was about to make the first of his appointments when the door flew in, striking the stop so hard that it shook in its frame. His head shot up and there in the doorway was the tall, strikingly beautiful and definitely pissed off form of his partner with a half-dozen agents from his unit standing somewhere behind her.

"Please, come in," he deadpanned.

He could hear Brennan's labored breathing from across the room, her eyes were darting about to and fro, and there was the slightest twitch in her left hand that he knew meant business. He stood up quickly, his fingers resting on the edge of his desk as his eyes ran over her again.

"Bones, what is it? What's wrong?"

Brennan reached out carefully, swinging the door closed behind her. He swallowed at the dull click of the latch slipping into place - the sound was as loud and ominous as a church bell in the dead calm of his office.

* * *

><p><em>AN: As always, feedback is welcome...  
><em>


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